Original Powers
by Robin4
Summary: AU post 3x11. Rumplestiltskin's curse breaks when he stabs Pan, but when one darkness falls, another rises. Enter the Black Fairy as the power behind the Witch. This is the price to be paid—war in the Enchanted Forest that our heroes may not be able to win. Now Rumplestiltskin must play a dangerous game where the rules keep changing...and nothing will ever be the same again.
1. Prologue: Origins

Summary:_ Post "Going Home." _

_Rumplestiltskin's curse breaks when he stabs Pan, which leads to the Black Fairy rising as the power behind the Witch. This is the price to be paid—war in the Enchanted Forest that our heroes may not be able to win. Now Rumplestiltskin must play a more dangerous game than ever before. One where the rules keep changing...and nothing will ever be the same again._

_Once upon a time, the Black Fairy betrayed and trapped humanity's most powerful sorcerer, binding his soul to darkness and pain. Now, as the power behind the Wicked Witch's throne, she wishes to use her fiercest weapon to rule the Enchanted Forest once and for all._

* * *

**Original Powers**

* * *

"_**What has to be done has a price. A price I am finally willing to pay."**_

_**Prologue—"Origins"**_

Belle found the book long before she knew it was important. Four months after their return to the Enchanted Forest, not long after their retreat from Snow White's kingdom, she found the old and worn book underneath a pile of debris and rubbish, and being Belle, she picked it up and began reading. The title on well-worn spine was hard to decipher, and the title page had been ripped out centuries before, but had Belle been able to find it, the title would have been _An Abridged Historie of the Formation of Magic_ by Lucius Apuleius Madaurensis.

The book was a surprisingly thin tome for one with such an imposing title, and drier than dirt, but she came back to it time and again over the next few weeks. Doing so made for good distraction. The Dark Castle bustled with activity these days, but it was no longer _home._ Home was the quiet creaking of the spinning wheel, was Rumplestiltskin's experiments gone wrong and his sudden appearances, all giggles and lonely smiles after making a deal. Or, home was an obnoxiously pink three story house in a town where no one understood, the thump of a cane on polished hardwood floors, and a genuine smile that was only for her.

Regina's reversal of the curse had brought both spinning wheels back, though everyone avoided the one in the Great Hall and no one but her went up to the tower that Rumplestiltskin had once used for his work room. The Wicked Witch's armies had forced their forces to retreat so many times that the Dark Castle had become their last refuge, a fortress from which to attack the forces of evil and hopefully to someday take back their lands. Their own allies were a motley crew, to be certain, from Robin Hood's men (already in residence when Belle and her companions arrived) to the Evil Queen and various other royals, not to mention their followers. There were thousands of them there, now, with more refugees pouring in by the day, and Belle was usually too busy to grieve properly.

Whenever she dropped out of the day to day whirl of trying to manage everything and keep everyone alive, she retreated to Rumplestiltskin's tower to read.

Technically, the castle belonged to Baelfire—who no longer bothered to call himself Neal Cassidy, not in this world—but he'd made it adamantly clear that the Dark Castle was as much Belle's as his. Together they'd come to a sort of unspoken agreement, in which she wasn't quite his stepmother but was most assuredly the woman his father had loved, and that was enough. It was certainly enough to make him bring down his considerable temper upon anyone who even _thought _about disturbing Belle when she needed time away from them all, no matter how dire their need. So, that day she flipped the old book open to a new chapter.

_Origins_

_In the beginning, there were merely elemental powers, called "demons" by later generations. These powers were beyond conscious control, although later magic users would learn to harness, target, and slay them. Various cultures have referred to them as shadows, spirits, ghost, angels, or the incubus, but they are beings of pure elemental power. Each embodies that which they are, and consume the opposite. However, that which they consume can also poison them in surfeit._

_Six different types of elemental "demons" existed at the beginning, one for each of the six magical elements: fire, wind, earth, water, light, and dark._

_Fairies sprang into existence next, by which means is now lost to history. Like the elemental demons, they were originally divided. As beings of pure magic, their classification was simple: light and dark, or, more appropriately, right and wrong. Of these there were two original powers, the Blue Fairy (Reul Ghorm) and the Black Fae (real name unknown__). For a time the two original fairies lived in harmony, providing balance to their order and to their world, each opposite reflections of the same power. But as differences developed between the two, other fairies began to choose a side in the conflict between Reul Ghorm and the Black Fae. In time, the darker fairies came to call themselves "the Fae" for their leader._

_As this conflict began, humans gained magic, but humans are infinitely more complicated than fairies. They could not so easily be defined as light/dark, good/evil, or even right/wrong. So there were four original powers amongst them, magical beings who were each able to work good or evil magics with incredible power. These four were both old and wise, and some say that they were born of unions between humans and the incubus, but their origins have also been lost to history._

_Humans being humans, however, they wanted more. And so the War began. By the end, only one of the human elemental powers remained, the one who had allied himself with both Original Fairies in hopes of keeping the War from devastating all life within every realm. He was called the Merlin, and was accounted as a great hero by humans and fairies alike. Of his three onetime companions, two were slain in the War, both by power hungry humans who shared their great powers amongst them, creating the first of the lesser sorcerers and the first human magic users outside of the original four powers. The last was slain by Reul Ghorm herself when Circe attempted to establish ascendancy over all of the realms._

_Legend says that the Black Fae was there to save her sister from certain death after the battle, in which Circe—whose power was near equal to that of Reul Ghorm and her cunning humanely fierce—nearly drove the Kris Dagger into the heart of the Blue Fairy, but no accounts of the battle survived, and Reul Ghorm never spoke of it again. The alliance between the Fairies and the Fae persisted for some time after the final battle, however, which lends credence to this rumor._

_Circe's power was broken with her death, left to be absorbed by magical beings and human magical users. The original elemental "demons" however, also absorbed some of that power, as such power always comes at a price. And so the demons multiplied, leaving four of each element. Over the intervening years, fairies, fae, the Merlin, sorcerers, and magical users hunted, trapped, and killed as many as they could find lest the others lay waste to the Enchanted Forest. In the end, only a handful remained, though there would always be discrepancies between the number of demons whose slayings could be confirmed and those who remained alive._

_By the dawn of the final Fae/Fairy split, only one wind, three fire, two water, and three dark elemental demons remained. The one slain Dark Elemental Demon was supposedly eliminated by the Black Fae, and although there were no witnesses, only three have been identified in the centuries since that supposed battle._

_The War, however, also created the Secondary Powers: the Greater Dragon, the King of the Ogres, the Twice Minotaur, Pegasus, genies, and Ursula along with other assorted so-called "gods". The widespread use—and reckless distribution, in the killing of the two original human powers, inadvertently created numerous magical objects. Others were created for use during the war by the original powers themselves. These objects included the Janus Stone, the Yellow Star, Circe's Dagger, the Staff of Time, the Equal Glass, and others. Legends indicate that the giants were first able to plant magic beans following the conflict, as their seeds had been enhanced by the massive release of magic._

_These objects were scattered amongst magic beings and magic users, although legend persists that some of them are powerful enough to slay one of the original powers._

_Four centuries after the War, the final split between the Fairies and Fae occurred. Although the Black Fae (commonly known as the Black Fairy by this date) had once acted as a counterbalance to the Blue Fairy, maintaining an equilibrium in both magic and in the nature of the world itself, she struck away from their shared order. Seeking power for herself and weary of creating happy endings for others, the Black Fairy decided to make her own way and ensure her power, and that of her followers, remained intact. _

_She tricked and trapped the Merlin, though he had once been her friend. Isolating him from the world, she bound him to darkness and exposed his soul, forcing it to intertwine with the dark elemental demon which she had trapped centuries earlier. That done, she bound his soul, the demon, and his magic to Circe's Dagger. Using the dagger, the Black Fairy was able to command obedience from the remaining original human power, but still she was not satisfied._

_Holding the Merlin captive for countless years, she warped him and changed him. In darkness she tortured him, and in darkness he endured, until nothing of his humanity remained. When her work was complete, the Fairy loosed her new creature on the world, a being of rage, pain, and fury who would stop at nothing to make others suffer. Yet, knowing the soul of the man who she had trapped, she created one last safeguard. This new creature would be unable to take his own life, and when he found someone so dark and desperate as he to do the deed, the powers and the curse would pass to this new creature, providing the Black Fairy with a new servant._

_The curse, of course, was not unbreakable. No curse is. But the Black Fairy knew her work. In the unlikely event that such an evil, shredded, and tormented soul would ever find True Love, she built the curse to resist the pull of even…_

"That's horrible," Belle whispered to herself, turning the page and finding that the rest of the section was missing. Moments later, however, her disappointment was forgotten when Regina's voice echoed throughout the castle, and another attack began.

* * *

Elsewhere, whilst her creatures attacked the Dark Castle, the Wicked Witch of the West stood face to face with a taller woman. The castle she occupied had once belonged to Queen Regina, as had the gorgeous gown of black silk and lace she wore. Both were a conscious choice, meant to infuriate the Evil Queen, although the Witch intended to do far worse by the time she was done. Her companion, however, was wreathed in shadows, her face and form hidden from view, but the Witch watched her warily, clearly trying to conceal nerves behind a smile.

"My patience has limits," the Witch said cautiously.

A pale white hand waved lightly, black and silver cloth of a sleeve sweeping gracefully. "All in good time. You will have the revenge you seek, Zelena."

"I would prefer to do things my way," the green-skinned woman grated out, glaring.

"No. Magic is different in the town they call Storybrooke, despite my servant having brought power to the Land Without Magic. It would not serve my purposes."

"You have said—"

"Earthly power is of no concern to me. You _shall _have what you wish," the other cut her off, the ethereal voice hardening enough to make the Witch flinch slightly. "In good time. Now play your games and enjoy your war. I will do the rest."

She did not need to voice a threat. Zelena was no fool, and would not press. Instead, the Witch swept into a graceful curtsey, signifying her submission to a power far greater than herself. By the time she rose, the other woman had vanished.

* * *

_Ye Old Author's Note:_ _Have no fear, there's much more to come, featuring all of our favorite characters. This is my first OUAT fanfiction, so please do drop me a line and let me know what you think. _


	2. Chapter 1: Going Home

_**Chapter One—"Going Home"**_

* * *

"I'm still not sure this is a good idea," David pointed out, looking dubiously at Robin, who stood next to Regina with his arms crossed stubbornly.

"Look, Your Highness"—the honorific sounded a tad sarcastic coming from the outlaw who was busy romancing the Evil Queen who might or might not be considered "Prince" Charming's stepmother-in-law. Robin never called the Prince (who was technically a King) that unless he was trying to wheedle something out of him, either—"Regina is right. If there _is _someone else behind the Wicked Witch, we need to know it. Trust me. I've been dealing with the Witch while you lot were off playing house in Storybrooke, and she's bad enough by herself. If she's getting her marching orders from someone else, we need to know who it is."

"I'm not disagreeing with you," David replied, heaving a sigh. "It's just that this plan of yours is _risky_, and we can't afford to lose any more people. We've _finally _managed to meet the Witch's forces head on, and we can't afford to divert our resources from that course. Even now, Mulan's army is starting to regain territory in the south, and one more push might just free our first kingdom from the Witch's grasp."

"So push her. I'm proposing a small force going in to take just _one _town away from these people. So what if they have magical beasts guarding the place? Regina can deal with them. I won't even take Baelfire this time. You can have him."

"Gee, _thanks_, Robin." From Belle's left, Baelfire shot his friend a dirty look. Despite the odd manner of their meeting, Rumplestiltskin's son really had it off with the man his father had once started flaying alive, and they made an almost unstoppable team. "Glad to know you're so generous."

But Baelfire had _also _turned into one of their best generals, a point even the royals acknowledged after Baelfire had pulled Prince Thomas' forces out of trouble one too many times. Masterful strategy was apparently something that ran in the family, although everyone was careful not to comment upon such things in Belle's hearing. They all thought she was still fragile and heartbroken, even if a year had passed. She still thought they were crazy.

"I'll go in Bae's place," Belle volunteered, shooting her almost-stepson a shut-up look when he started to object. "Robin'll need another sword, and the castle's as secure as it's going to get. You don't need me here for that. Snow can handle things without me."

"Someone still has to go fetch Miss Swan," Hook spoke up before Charming could argue or Robin could agree. "Now that the Blue Fairy has managed to create a pathway we can use to travel tothe Land Without Magic _and_ back, she belongs here. With her family."

No one bothered to pretend that Baelfire—still Neal, Belle supposed, where Emma was concerned—didn't throw Hook a furious look for that remark. A year hadn't cooled either of their feelings concerning the Charmings' daughter, and everyone knew Hook was burning to be the one that was sent after Emma and Henry. He'd only been arguing the point for months.

There were times Belle felt like volunteering for _that _job just to keep both of the foolish men in check, but there was no way anyone would agree to that idea. Now, however, Bae surprised her by grinning.

"I guess you get the job," he said to Hook with a painfully familiar smirk, then turned to David. "Since you need me to lead armies, and Hook _sucks _at strategy, he's nominated." He looked back at the pirate. "Just don't screw it up. Bring Emma and my kid back safely."

Hook, to his credit, only bristled a little. "I will do my best."

"That's all anyone can ask," Snow interjected, heavily pregnant and looking tired. Usually, she was the peacemaker in these rabid war councils, but lately Belle had found herself filling that role more and more. The pregnancy really was eating away at the usually fiery princess (queen?), and Belle felt terrible for focusing on the negative aspects instead of her own envy.

Back in Storybrooke, Snow had implied to Emma that going back without her and Henry wouldn't be a happy ending for her parents, but even with the war on, they seemed blissful enough. Belle didn't begrudge anyone their happiness, of course, but sometimes it _burned _to be shut up in a castle with so many True Love couples. Between Snow and Charming, Grumpy and Astrid, Thomas and Ella, Philip and Aurora, and even Abagail and Fredrick before the pair had set off with Midas to raise a third army, she found herself dwelling on her own loses far too often. It wasn't healthy, and going with Robin on this raid was just what she needed.

"You okay?" Baelfire asked as the others filed out, and Belle tore her eyes away from where Charming laid a protective hand on Snow's stomach.

"Of course," she took a deep breath. "Some days are just better than others. That's all." Belle forced herself to shrug. "Are you sure _you're _all right with Hook going for Emma?"

He scowled. "No. But Hook'll bring both of them back safely, and if I'm lucky, he'll make an ass out of himself and piss her off. And I really am needed here. Hook couldn't lead an army if one threw itself at him."

"At least he's good in a scrap?"

"_Robin _is good in a scrap," Baelfire corrected her. "You watch yourself out there, okay? I think Dad would probably resurrect himself and kill me if I let anything happen to you."

Belle smiled wistfully, but she didn't tear up. Some days _were _worse than others, but she wasn't some weepy little princess. She poked Baelfire in the chest instead and gave him an exasperated look. "No, if he were here, he'd tell you that no one decides my fate but me. I'm not going to hide, Bae. This is my world, too, and I'm going to fight for it."

* * *

_She would rework the curse. Fragile, human, and without magic, the process should have been simple, though a part of him knew that more time had passed than ought to have passed._

_Fire roared through the left side of his chest, and he screamed weakly in pain. He convulsed, but the chains holding him were too tight, and his body barely moved. Everything burned, and then darkness tore into him, racing through every muscle and every bone, tearing, ripping, slashing into his soul. He screamed again, helplessly shaking against the onslaught he could not fight._

_Sometime after the darkness finally withdrew, he heard her snarl: "I will have no _Merlins_ here."_

* * *

Hook set out to find Emma and Henry the same day that Robin's merry brand of marauders left the castle. Belle supposed that the small group really couldn't call itself Robin's merry _men_ any longer; even though Mulan had left to command an army, Regina had more or less taken her place, and now Belle was along for the ride, also. Not that they were actually riding. There weren't enough horses to provide both the army and their raiders with mounts, so they set out on foot.

"There's something we forgot to mention back at the castle," Robin said when they stopped for the first night, exchanging a look with Regina that spelled trouble.

"Oh, this should be fantastic," Alan-a-Dale snorted from where he leaned against a tree, his ankles crossed casually.

Robin, of course, looked her way. "Lady Belle, do you want to explain?"

"You're going to have to stop calling me that one of these days," she pointed out sourly but fondly.

"Not with your father stomping around the castle, my Lady," was the grinning response, although they both knew that wasn't the reason. Sir Maurice—thankfully off with Charming's army—threw noble suitors and knights at Belle on almost a daily basis, hoping one of them might catch her fancy. He'd found her and Robin talking quietly one day, and had tried to run the outlaw off, shouting that Robin wasn't worthy of his daughter. Belle had tried to explain that she and Robin had met years ago and they were just catching up, but even Robin's explanation of how she had saved his life didn't mollify Sir Maurice.

"Oh, because a man who could shoot a half dozen arrows into my father before he could draw his sword is _so _terrified of him," Belle shot back.

"My Lady!" Robin gasped, looking offended. "How could you say such a thing? It would be at least a dozen."

Their small raiding force laughed, and Belle was glad that her joking with Robin could help break the tension a little bit. These _were _Robin's men, and though they were used to Regina and they all knew Belle, none of them were used to having her along, particularly not without Baelfire to ease things along. She _was _the lady of the castle they lived in, more or less, and most of them had started out as peasants of one sort or another.

She imagined that Regina had experienced even more problems fitting in with them at the start, but at least she was a powerful sorceress, with magic that could make an argument for itself. None of Robin's men were fools, and only a fool could discount how useful it was to have someone like Regina along, particularly given the nature of this war and just how many magical enemies Regina had slain since their return from Storybrooke.

"Well, I suppose I will explain, so long as you promise that you didn't pepper my father with arrows before we left," she said when the laughter died down.

"Cross my heart," Robin replied jauntily.

Belle took a deep breath, and then turned to the others. "It actually started with the message you all intercepted last month," she started. "I was able to decode it a few days ago, and it concerns the town we are heading towards."

"They _are_ hiding something there, aren't they?" Alan asked.

"According to the message, there's an object of great magical power there," Belle replied. "Something that the Witch has been told to send her fiercest creatures to guard."

Much the Miller's Son dropped his head into his hands morosely. "Flying monkeys again. Great."

"Flying monkeys and more," Regina interjected, but _she _was smiling. "It sounds like the Witch has also acquired a dragon."

"A _what_?" several voices demanded at once, but Robin shrugged.

"You hold it still, I'll kill it," he said to Regina with a cheeky smile. "I've always wanted to be a dragonslayer."

Regina's laugh always made her look years younger. "I was hoping you'd say that."

"Is _that _why you raided my squid ink supplies?" Belle had to interject, not sure when they'd become _hers_, but still wanting to know the answer.

"I didn't think you'd notice," Regina replied, abashed.

"You could just ask next time," Belle pointed out.

"My apologies."

Taking a deep breath, Belle nodded. Regina's words were a bit stiff, but the remorse was genuine; although the pair would probably never like one another, they'd formed an odd type of understanding over the last year. Aside from Belle and Baelfire, Regina had known Rumplestiltskin better than anyone, and she mourned him, too. Belle wasn't quite able to forgive Regina for tricking her and then locking her up, but she could move past that. Regina was their best hope for defeating the Witch, after all. They needed her.

Particularly because the fairies weren't being very helpful, unless you counted Tinkerbelle, who spent more time at the Dark Castle than she did wherever the rest of the fairies called home. Astrid was off with Grumpy and the army, of course, but she seemed to have given up on being a fairy, period. Tinkerbelle had offered to teach her—over the Blue Fairy's objections, of course—but Astrid (who no longer went by Nova at all) had refused. And the other fairies had followed Blue off to whatever stronghold they had, there to do, well…something. Belle wasn't sure what, and it was irritating that the fairies no longer felt they had a stake in the war just because they had somewhere safe to go.

"So," Belle continued brightly. "Whatever this object is, we need to acquire it or destroy it. From what the message said, it might even be one of the Secondary Powers, and _that _means that it could be used to kill the Witch. Maybe it could even work against whatever or _whoever _it is who is backing her."

"So, what you're saying is that killing the flying monkeys and a bloody _dragon _could possibly win us this war," Little John said after everyone gave her words a moment to sink in. "Assuming we can fetch whatever you want us to fetch."

"Pretty much."

"But we have no idea what this object is," Tuck pointed out. "Do we?"

Belle smiled crookedly. "Not a clue. I mean, I know what some of the Secondary Powers _are_—I found a book on them—but I won't know until we're there. I did bring the book."

"I can help," Regina volunteered unexpectedly. "If there is an object of such power being hidden in Bremen, I can find it. After we're done with the dragon, of course."

The smile she gave Robin was radiant, and Belle wondered if Regina knew enough about magic to combine her hair with the outlaw's and find out if there was yet _another _True Love pair in the castle. The way Tinkerbelle watched them and the way the Blue Fairy frowned indicated that this might actually _be _True Love, despite the fact that the Blue Fairy seemed determined to argue that no redemption was possible once darkness started to consume a person. Belle, however, knew differently, and Regina deserved happiness. She had waited long enough, and sacrificed enough.

Somehow, she thought even Rumplestiltskin would be happy for his old student.

* * *

_He thought he was in a cellar. The wall they chained him to was cold and damp, and the persistently murky smell screamed 'underground' like nothing else did. Blindfolded more often than not, he had no concept of time. The last he had seen of daylight was before they threw him into the darkness. The only light he saw now came when torches strayed too close to his face; they burned the blindfold off once while he screamed in pain. Someone had healed him after that, but the magic had an odd flavor to it, one he could not recognize. Someone _else _muttered that the wounds should have killed him had he been human, but no one noticed the muffled sound of mixed amusement and befuddlement he made from behind the gag._

_From the first, they'd asked for nothing and brought only pain. Only _she—_the woman whose face was a blur in his memory from the pain—actually spoke to him, and what she wanted made no sense. There was something about a curse and the scar on his chest, and both references made him want to laugh and tell the torturers how stupid they were._

_By time ticked by, and everything _hurt_. The constant onslaught of darkness and pain robbed him of most of his coherent memories; images drifted by sometimes, not all of which made sense. The flashes of memory were disjointed, disconnected. He remembered darkness, death, fury and lashing out until the entire world burned with his pain. He remembered tricks and traps and trying so very hard to do _better_, failing all the while. He remembered a battle, a great War in which the nature of magic itself changed, remembered betrayal and pain and sacrifice—_

_And love. He remembered love, too._

_Buried beneath centuries of rage, power, and pain, there was love. Flickering against the darkness, there remained a small light. He could hardly recall feeling it, but it was there, somewhere, just on the edge of his consciousness. And when the pain grew too great he clung to it, holding tightly to that feeling while he screamed and sobbed, all the while unable to remember why._

* * *

"Y'know, I'm starting to think that this bunch of ogres is nothing more than a distraction," Baelfire said to David, keeping his tone conversational. The last thing their threadbare army needed was for their leaders to start sounding panicked; if there was anything Bae had learned from painful experience, it was if the leadership started to be afraid, the army would quickly turn from brave to terrified, and there was almost no coming back from that.

There were many reasons Prince Thomas had been relegated to commanding the reserves, and his inability to keep his own fears under control were certainly high on the list. Oh, he cut a pretty figure in armor and his daddy the king was undoubtedly proud, but the boy was something of a nervous ninny. If there was anything Bae hated more than playing the Enchanted Forest status game, it was doing it with someone who couldn't man up enough to take care of his own responsibilities. Granted, Prince Thomas admittedly still held a grudge over the minor inconvenience of Bae's father having demanded his and Ella's firstborn, but that really wasn't a convincing reason for Thomas to have been quite so overbearing.

_Maybe Belle was right. Maybe I could have been more diplomatic, but the boy's an idiot, and he got dozens killed by his little freakout. Being royalty doesn't absolve him for his mistakes, and so what if I knocked him unconscious and took command? It was almost a year ago, and it's not like I left him to rot on the battlefield._

"They seem pretty convincing to me," David remarked, sitting relaxed on his own horse as they surveyed the battlefield. Sometimes thinking of the fact that this man was Emma's _father _was absolutely surreal, but Baelfire _liked_ David. He respected him enormously, too, which was why he went to great pains not to respond to this prince like he would have if Thomas had said something so inane.

"Well, they wouldn't be a very good distraction if they didn't," he replied with a twisted smile. David snorted, and Bae waved a hand at the archers who were attempting to take out the dozens of ogres. "But look at them. They're…kind of staying in one spot. Like they have something to hide."

David nodded immediately. "Or like they're trying to buy time. While our entire army sits here and waits for the archers to clear the ogres out of the way."

"Exactly." _This _was why he liked David. The man had a first-rate brain, particularly when it came to battles. Bae wasn't sure when or how he'd grown quite so comfortable with armies and warfare, but it all made _sense _to him, and he made an even better team with David than he did with Robin. David handled the tactical end while Baelfire looked at the big picture, and together they generally managed to win battles instead of losing, even when they were at the wrong end of three-to-one odds like they usually were.

"What are you thinking?"

He scratched his goatee absentmindedly. "Honestly, I was just thinking about how much I want to know what's on the other side of that ridge."

Emma's father snorted again. "The one right behind the ogres. Naturally."

"Well, it wouldn't be much fun otherwise, would it?" Bae shot back, making David roll his eyes. But the prince _did _start passing orders to his senior officers, and before long, the army started making its way around the ogres and into the valley beyond them.

Three hours later, they finished off the _real _battle, having interrupted the Witch's forces whilst they were in the midst of setting up the second best trap Bae had ever seen, complete with flying monkeys and what would have been a well-positioned ambushing force if Bae hadn't brought the cavalry around into their flank before the Witch's archers could finish digging in. Not long after that, the false retreat he led suckered the Witch's griffins—her main attacking force, one they'd been trying to destroy for _months_—straight into the _best_ trap Baelfire had ever created (or seen), and burned the lot up with some well-placed fire arrows. The oil they'd soaked the ground in the night before ignited immediately, filling the valley with flames and death.

A few flying monkeys managed to escape the inferno, but most of the Witch's best army burned to a cinder, and if David looked a little nauseous after the battle, well, that was the breaks. Even if Emma chose Hook, Baelfire was damn well going to make sure that Henry had a safe world to come back to, and that meant killing the enemy before the enemy could kill them. He'd dedicate his life to that goal, if that was what it took, and have no regrets whatsoever. Oddly enough, Regina understood that better than anyone else. That was why she was off doing everything she could to defeat the Wicked Witch while Hook fetched Emma and Henry. They both wanted Henry to be safe, even if it was with someone else.

"Where _did _you learn this?" David asked him quietly as they watched the fires burn themselves out.

Baelfire shrugged. "It was either video games or figuring out how to outsmart Pan in Neverland. Pick one."

"I think being a tricky son of a gun must run in your family tree," the prince replied after a moment, smiling. "Henry certainly got that from you, anyway."

"Yeah." Thinking of family was still damn complicated, particularly while living in his father's castle with the woman who his father had loved, and with his son stuck in a world that Neal Cassidy had tried so hard to make his own. _Not to mention the fact that I'm in love with a _princess_, who is the actual heir to not one but _two _kingdoms once we straighten this mess out. _

It was probably a good thing that Emma hadn't been there during the last year. She would have punched out a half-dozen of the self-important lordlings and knights would have undoubtedly tried to charm their way into her heart, and then maybe shot them for good measure. But oh how he would have _paid _to see that. Bae missed her more than words could describe. Although Emma hadn't really been back in his life for very long, and he'd spent more time missing over the years than he had actually spent with her, thinking of her made his heart ache. Shaking himself free of those thoughts, Bae forced his attention back onto Emma's father.

"He's a good kid," Bae said hoarsely, hoping and praying that the Witch hadn't found a way through to endanger Emma and Henry. "A _great _kid. Even if he's got the craziest family tree ever."

David laughed. "Well, I'm actually a shepherd and not royalty at all, if it makes you feel any better."

"Really?" He hadn't heard that one before.

"Oh, yeah. Sheep and all."

"Well, maybe someday I'll show you the village I grew up in," Baelfire replied, his eyes on one of the dead ogres. "Assuming it's still there."

"Be careful what you promise," David warned him with a grin. "I might take you up on that. It might be nice to see somewhere normal."

"Funny. I'm not sure what normal is any more, to be honest."

Normal. Had he once had a normal life, the child of a crippled spinner and a woman who wanted out so badly that she ran away with a pirate? Baelfire barely remembered _normal_, despite the fact that his memories of Hamlin sometimes seemed so fresh that he might have left yesterday. More than two and a half centuries had passed since his real childhood. Who would have thought he'd wind up here, commanding armies and sharing jokes with a king? No matter what David wanted to call himself, the man clearly wasthe most powerful king in the entire Enchanted Forest; he and Snow White were the leaders everyone turned to, even the older monarchs.

Dirt poor thirteen year old Balefire would have never imagined himself in this position, not when he'd been certain that he'd die doing his duty in the Ogre Wars. He hadn't wanted to die then, but he'd wanted to fight, and a part of him had been irrationally angry at his father for years because he'd never gotten the chance. _Well, I've seen plenty of battles and ogres now, _he thought with a crooked smile. _It's not nearly as glorious as I thought it would be, and now I'm doing it for entirely different reasons_. These days Bae understood his father better than ever before; all he wanted was to make sure that Henry didn't have to fight these battles, and that his son would have a safe world to grow up in.

Sometimes, he supposed, fate really did have a rotten sense of humor.

* * *

_**A/N:**_ _So, here we go! Stay tuned for Chapter 2: "Ancient History," in which Belle, Regina, Robin and company find something no one expects in Bremen and Baelfire tries to save idiot royals from themselves._


	3. Chapter 2: Traps Come in Pairs

_**Chapter Two—"Traps Come in Pairs"**_

* * *

"That's the mark of the Black Fairy."

Belle's head snapped around; Regina's voice sounded like it came from beyond the grave, and when she caught sight of the other woman's face, she saw a stricken expression that she had not seen since the day Regina had to let Henry go. The Queen and Robin had finished off the dragon while Little John led Belle and the others into battle against the flying monkeys and other guards on the small town of Bremen, but Regina had returned to help with the prisoners. Having a sorcerer along generally seemed to cow captured guards and townspeople into submission, and since Belle didn't want to hurt anyone they didn't have to, Regina's presence was extremely useful. Of course, Regina's methods could still sometimes use a bit of work—that fireball hadn't missed the sheriff by much—the townsfolk were now separated from the hired guards and hopefully providing Alan-a-Dale with useful information.

Some of them probably needed to change their undergarments after Regina's little display, but Belle supposed that was minor enough damage. Still, she shot the older woman a scowl as she came over to stand next to her, just on principle.

Thankfully, the mark wasn't on any of the _people_; instead it was on the side of one of the few stone buildings the town boasted of. The building was built low to the ground and completely made of stone, from the sloping roof to the walls themselves. Only the door was made of wood, heavily reinforced with iron and a sizeable lock. The mark was carved into the stone to the immediate right of the door, less than a foot tall and at eye level. It was a simple symbol, looking like two of the upside down letter "V", with an arrow drawn through the middle of both, pointing to the left. The mark was vaguely familiar, but Belle couldn't remember having seen it anywhere outside a book.

"Are you certain?" Robin asked Regina, as Belle started digging through her bag.

Regina grimaced. "Unfortunately. One of the most important things anyone who uses magic learns is to avoid anything with _that _on it. Even if you're playing with Dark Magic, it's not worth toying with something of hers."

"Then why would it be here?" Robin stepped up to study the mark more closely, scowling. "Hasn't the Black Fairy been dead for hundreds of years?"

"Of course," Belle answered, searching through the old book for the right page, just as Regina replied:

"Dead is negotiable when you're talking about fairies. Particularly _that _fairy."

"Dead is _dead_," Robin objected. "Isn't it?"

"No. _History _says she's dead, but Tinker Bell said that the Blue Fairy only exiled her. That means she's out there somewhere, presumably unable to reach our world," Regina replied, stepping up next to Robin to run a hand over the mark, just inches away from touching the stone. "But there have been…sightings over the centuries. People who claim these marks appear for no reason, and that creatures that only the Black Fairy could control are still doing her bidding. She still has followers."

Belle found the right page, and bit her lip. "It's the right mark," she said quietly.

"I did tell you." Regina shot her a glare, but there was no actual rancor behind the expression. "And it's new. This mark…it's about a year old."

"How is that possible?" Robin asked.

Regina rolled her eyes. "Well, someone obviously put it here. The question is why."

"Has anyone thought to ask what became of the Black Fairy's wand when your curse hit?" Belle asked as the thought suddenly occurred to her. "It was in the shop, but…"

Her eyes met Regina as the Queen twisted to face her, and Belle could feel their hearts do a synchronized stutter. The Witch was enough of a threat. The last thing they needed was for someone to have gotten ahold of the Black Fairy's wand and to be trying to bring _her_ back from wherever the Blue Fairy had exiled her to. Regina was certain that she could beat the Witch, but if even the Blue Fairy had proven unable to actually _kill _the Black Fairy, what could mere humans do against her? Belle had read the Black Fairy's section in her book months ago, and there was maddeningly little information on the evil "Fae", but nothing she remembered was in any way good.

"That could be a problem," Regina breathed. Belle could only nod, her throat tight. Robin, however, cleared his throat.

"So…not to interrupt the academic discussion here," the outlaw said diffidently, "but do we want to go in the little stone house, or not? I'm presuming that whatever magical item we came here for is probably in there, given that the place has a 'keep out' sign and all."

Belle had almost forgotten about their actual mission. "Can you tell if it's there?" she asked Regina, who shook her head.

"The entire building is heavily shielded with magic like I've never seen before. Although…it does seem to be more focused on keeping something _in _rather than keeping us out. I can probably open the door."

"Oh, that's an idea, love. Open the magically sealed door when we have no idea what's inside it." But Robin grinned, slinging his bow off of his shoulder and notching an arrow. "I'm game. Open away."

Regina glared. "Can you _ever _be serious?"

"I can only be so flippant because I have the most beautiful sorcerer in the world at my side."

"You only say that because my skin isn't _green_," Regina shot back, and Belle snickered despite herself. Listening to the constant battle of wits between Robin and Regina was entertainment all in itself, and she really _was _glad that Regina had found someone sharp enough to keep up with her. However, they were wasting time. Sunset would occur in an hour or so, and their plan called for them to leave Bremen before darkness fell. Robin and his men always argued that the woods were safer than any town after dark, and after traveling with them for two weeks on the way there, Belle had to admit that they knew their business well.

"So," she started pointedly. "Are we going to open this door or not? This _is _likely why we came here in the first place."

"My vote's already in for opening it, but Regina's the door-woman," Robin replied. "Your call, love."

"You always use that word like you want something," Regina groused, but Belle could see the laughter in her eyes. Then she shrugged. "Why the hell not? My list of enemies is depressingly short these days, anyway."

Without further comment, Regina raised her hands and went to work.

* * *

"I still think that this is the mother of all bad ideas."

David shot him an exasperated look, and Baelfire sighed. There were times when he found Prince Charming to be entirely too good, honorable, and trusting—and _this _moment clearly defined them all. Baelfire was all for keeping his word, but depending upon an enemy to do the same thing was just plain stupid.

"Look, if the Witch is asking to parley, that means we're really getting somewhere," David pointed out for the fourth time. Baelfire resisted the urge to growl.

"Or it means she just wants an easy way to kill you," he replied. Again.

"If she tries to kill those she's meeting with under a flag of truce, no one will ever meet with her again," their leader said stubbornly. "The Witch _knows _that, which is why she'll be there to talk."

"Am I seriously the only one here who can think like a bad guy?" Baelfire asked plaintively, glancing helplessly at the assembled group of _good _and _honorable_ fighters. Prince Thomas looked offended, of course. Mulan was thoughtful, but shared David's stubborn sense of honor, so she was no help. Fredrick, newly arrived while Midas was still recruiting, looked like he thought Baelfire was crazy (and possibly far beneath his social station). Abigail, holding his hand, looked like she might actually agree with Baelfire's point of view, but certainly didn't speak up.

This time he did groan. "I guess I am. Well, then, since Regina isn't here to put this bluntly to you, I'll do it. The Witch doesn't have to play by the rules, and she _won't._ She wants to decapitate the resistance, and that means you." Pointing a finger at David, he continued: "We might have destroyed her main army, but the Witch has plenty more creatures where these came from. She has no _reason_ to negotiate honorably. And even more importantly, she's a _witch_. We're kind of short on magic users at the moment, and Regina's not here to take her down if she gets frisky. I say you ignore the invitation and we go find another one of her armies to beat up on."

"If we refuse to open negotiations now, the Witch might never be willing to talk again," Thomas replied, and Baelfire tried not to cross his arms impatiently as the younger man went on: "That's how honorable war is conducted, and any parley will only work to our advantage. Our men need time to rest and recuperate."

"Thomas is right," David cut in before Baelfire could say something he was afraid he wouldn't regret. "Any time that we buy with negotiations will only help us."

_Unless you wind up dead, _he managed to resist the urge to say. Thankfully, Abigail spoke up:

"Baelfire does have a point," she interjected calmly. "We all know that evil doesn't fight fair, and the Witch _does _have every reason to want you dead, David."

"I'm not that important."

Abigail chuckled softly. "Then why ask for you by name?"

"Because she wants to keep us off balance?" David replied dubiously.

"Because she's got a spy or two in our army, I'm sure." This time, Baelfire couldn't stop the comment from coming out, and got to watch Thomas and Frederick bristle as a reward.

_Please don't tell me that our people would never betray us. Frightened people do ridiculously stupid things to keep their family and friends safe_. Baelfire had learned a lot about fear and intimidation in Neverland, and he knew that even old friends from Storybrooke might turn into deadly enemies if the stakes got high enough here in the Enchanted Forest. Sometimes, the ridiculously honorable royals were such…well, _fairytale_ characters. He had to suppress a smile at that thought.

"Is that thought _amusing _to you?" Thomas demanded.

He sighed. "No. Not at all. None of this is, actually." Compared to the fresh faced prince, he felt every one of his two-hundred and sixty-odd years. But baiting Thomas further would only make the other royals turn on him, so Baelfire transferred his full attention back to David. "Okay. You're determined to go, so fine. But _I _get to run the security for our end, and you wear this."

Before he'd even finished the last sentence, Baelfire held a golden bracelet out to the prince. David looked at it curiously.

"I didn't know you cared so much, Baelfire. It's not even my birthday," he joked, and as usual, David's charm broke through the tension. Even Thomas chuckled a little.

"It's a shield of sorts, full of protective spells. The bracelet is pretty old, but Regina says it should still work fine. Belle found it when she was cleaning out some old cabinets," he explained. _And I brought it along because I knew you'd do something crazily stupidly honorable sooner or later, _he didn't need to add. Charming clearly saw him thinking it.

"How long should it give me if she starts throwing magic my way?" David asked, sliding the bracelet onto his left wrist.

"Anything from a minute to a half an hour. Regina wasn't too sure. It's not her work."

David smiled. "Well, from what I remember about your father in this world, I'd bet closer to a half an hour, but I'll be careful."

"Always a good idea."

* * *

"Are you sure about this, Tinker Bell?" Snow asked quietly, trying not to fidget. The baby was finally quiet, and any movement on her part would undoubtedly change that, so she was doing her best to resist the urge to pace.

This news _wasn't_ helping.

Tinker Bell nodded. "I know I don't spend as much time at…home as Blue wants me to, but I do drop by every now and then. And I couldn't help but overhear the conversation between her and some of the more senior fairies."

"What _exactly _were they saying?" Snow asked, taking a deep breath. She didn't want to consider why the Blue Fairy hadn't shared this information with them, but she was certain that was because the Blue Fairy was even busier than Snow and her allies were. Still, any news of _another _enemy had to be important. The Wicked Witch was quite bad enough.

"She said that the Black Fairy had escaped her exile while you were all under the curse," Tinker Bell replied bluntly, and Snow's stomach dropped out.

"_What?"_

"I know." Tink looked ready to be sick. "The Black Fairy was from before my time, but believe me when I say that she's bad news. No one knows how Blue managed to exile her, but _everyone _knows how powerful she was. And how evil."

Snow sucked in a deep breath. "So where did the Black Fairy go, then?"

"No one knows. Or if she knows, Blue isn't saying so." Tink swallowed, and Snow didn't like the doubtful look on her face. Blue _always _had reasons, and they usually turned out to be very good ones. "I'm worried, Snow," the green fairy whispered. "Something's happening. Blue and the others are shutting me out more and more because I've chosen to stay with all of you instead of working with them, but they're preparing for _something_. And they're not telling me about it."

"I'm sure she'll let us know in time," Snow soothed her friend.

When she'd initially met the abrasive and haunted fairy, she never would have expected Tinker Bell to become a true friend, but this last year had changed so many things about the life Snow White had once expected to have. The time before that in Storybrooke, both immediately before the curse was broken and the months afterwards, had changed even more, and she knew that she was a far cry from the princess who had warred against Regina. She was harder, more suspicious, and stronger in ways she had never wanted to be.

But those inner changes were the reason why Tinker Bell's next words rang so true, no matter how badly Snow wanted to deny them.

"Don't trust her so much," Tink said so softly that Snow had to strain to hear her. "Blue isn't fighting the same battles you are. She's looking forward _centuries._ She does what she thinks must be done for the greater good, not what's good for us now."

Still, Snow didn't want to believe that. "Blue just gave us the ability to get Emma and Henry back," she pointed out.

"For her own reasons, I'm sure," said the fairy whom Blue had once refused to believe in. Twice, if Regina's tale was to be believed, and Snow had grown to know her stepmother too well to doubt her.

"I think you're being unduly pessimistic," she replied, wishing she could believe that.

Tink only frowned. "I hope I am."

* * *

Of _course _it was a trap. And of course Prince Thomas—who had gone along with Charming (because really, which other royal was dumb enough to wander in there? Not Princess Abigail, and certainly not Sir Frederick while he was with her)—managed to get himself seriously injured during the escape. Baelfire really tried not to stereotype Cinderella's prince, but the boy _had _fallen in love at first sight with a girl who'd only made it to the ball with magical help. And he'd also been stupid enough to try to help Ella get out of the deal she'd made in order to change her life, as if nothing bad could ever come of _that_. Put simply, the boy just wasn't that bright.

"I really miss cell phones right now," David groused as he and Baelfire eased Thomas off of his horse. Thankfully, the younger man was unconscious now, probably from blood loss despite the bandage that they'd tied over the gaping wound in his side.

Bae ran a tired hand over his face. "Tell me about it. I _told _you that was a trap."

"Now's not the time." Together, they lowered Thomas to the ground, and the boy moaned softly as David removed the blood-soaked bandage, peering at the seeping wound.

"We lost at least two dozen men," Bae pointed out, feeling petulant.

He'd been _right_, and the Witch had barely even waited for an exchange of pleasantries before she'd tried to kill both princes. Charming had jumped in front of Thomas, of course, and the bracelet had protected them both—until the Witch's so-called royal guard had come pouring into the pavilion and tried to cut them both to pieces. Luckily, Bae had been close enough with the cavalry to bail the pair out, but a full-scale battle had erupted within minutes, and it had taken all the skill Bae possessed to extract their forces from the situation. Charming had, of course, been so honorable that he'd left the bulk of their army away from the supposed parlay, but the Witch had done nothing of the sort, and their fifty man honor guard had been vastly outnumbered by the several thousand she'd keep hidden not far away.

Only twenty-one of their men made it back with Bae, Charming, and Thomas, and many of them were almost as badly wounded as Thomas. Attempting to parlay with the Wicked Witch had bought them nothing except more deaths. Now they were even worse off than before…and that wasn't even the worst of it. If Thomas _died_, Baelfire knew they'd lose his father's support. Oh, the King would probably stay for awhile, but he was a touchy man, and terribly protective over his family. Thomas had a younger brother, and under their kingdom's rules of succession, that brother took precedence over Princess Alexandra. Thomas' death would make him heir to the throne, and that meant Thomas' father would be desperate to make peace with the Wicked Witch so that he didn't lose his only remaining son.

Whether or not the Witch would accept his allegiance was up for grabs, but so far as Baelfire was concerned, that didn't matter. They couldn't afford to lose _any _more of their army. If they did, the war was all but lost.

"Not _now!_" Charming retorted, applying pressure to the wound. "Write Snow. Tell her we need Tinker Bell as quickly as possible."

"Got it." Scowling, Baelfire pulled out a small communications chalkboard and scribbled a note.

Regina had enchanted a dozen of them about a month after returning to the Enchanted Forest. None of their old technology worked there (at least not beyond its battery life, and it wasn't like they could build a cell phone tower, anyway), but Regina had come up with the idea of using small chalkboards to "text" back and forth in emergencies. They couldn't send long messages, but at least the words could cover long distances in the blink of an eye.

Snow's response showed up almost immediately, written in loopy and beautiful handwriting that replaced Bae's haphazard scrawl. _Tink is on her way. How bad?_

Sometimes Bae forgot that Emma's mother could have had kicked Xena's ass if the warrior princess had lived in the Enchanted Forest, but her succinct response reminded him so much of Emma that it hurt. Banishing those thoughts, he scrawled a quick answer:

_About fifteen wounded, twenty-five or more dead. Got caught in an ambush that was supposed to be a parlay. David's okay._

Thomas was moaning, and Baelfire looked away from the tablet to hand David clean bandages. Pressure had slowed the bleeding, but Thomas still hadn't regained full consciousness. "That looks ugly," he said softly.

"It is," Charming said quietly. "Did Snow say how long Tink will be?"

"I'll ask."

He got that message in before Snow replied to the previous one, and a response came almost immediately. Swallowing, Bae looked up.

"Tink said an hour before she left. We're pretty far for her to fly, and she doesn't teleport."

David grimaced. "I don't suppose magic runs in your family, does it?"

"No. Dad didn't get his magic the, uh, normal way."

"Right. I suppose you'd have mentioned something by now if you could do magic, huh?" the prince replied with what Bae knew was forced cheer.

Bae sighed. "Yeah."

His opinion on magic was odd, Baelfire knew. Having grown up in a world where magic was a distant force, a power that belonged to the great and the important but not in _his _life, he'd never known much about it before his father had killed the Dark One. Then that act had changed everything, and he'd come to believe that magic itself was evil for what it had done to his papa. Because of that, he'd hated magic for the longest time, only to willingly come back to a world full of it…all for the love of a woman who was now stuck back in the world he'd run to in order to escape magic.

There were so many things about his life that made no logical sense. When he'd handed Pandora's Box back to his father in Neverland, Baelfire had accepted that magic wasn't necessarily evil. He'd started to hope that maybe, just maybe, his father really _could _change…and then he had watched his father kill himself in order to defeat Pan.

Self sacrifice was a kind of magic all of its own, Regina had told him when the pain had dulled to a muted roar. She'd never studied it much, having no intention of ever sacrificing her own life for some higher purpose, but Regina recalled having read something or another on it years earlier. Rumplestiltskin had never come out and said it, but that was what he'd meant when he'd repeatedly said that in order for Pan to die, _he _had to die. He'd been intending to sacrifice himself all along. _And I didn't believe him._

Swallowing his own regrets back, Bae turned back to the pair of princes and concentrated on saving Thomas' life. They had a war to win, and no matter how many they had already lost, more would die before the war was over.

* * *

Suddenly, the door burst open, flying back against the outer wall hard enough to break the hinges. Regina sagged briefly. Almost an hour had passed since she'd started working to force the door open, and now she looked exhausted. But the Queen did not voice a word of complaint, instead flicking her wrist until a glowing blue ball of light appeared. The ball floated away from them, illuminating the dark interior of the building.

Regina and Belle entered together, cautiously, with Robin right on their heels, bow in hand. Regina's ball of flickering light made a slow circuit of a very empty room; there were a few boxes in one corner and straw on the floor, but there was no furniture and definitely no legendary magical items visible. The wooden crates in the corner didn't even have lids, and not a one of them had anything inside at all. The trio spread out warily, but there wasn't exactly much of the room to look at, and Belle heard Regina huff in annoyance.

"There's nothing here," Robin said after a moment, following the glowing ball into the far corner.

"Then why shield the building with magic?" Belle asked, studying a pile of straw near her right foot.

Regina growled: "To waste our time, probably."

"What, have they done this in every town they expect we'll wander into?" Robin wondered out loud. "That doesn't make any sense at all."

"Confusing your enemies isn't about making sense," Regina retorted. "Trust me. Being evil is something I know plenty about. We're wasting time here. There's no magical object. That message had to be a trick, something we were meant to find."

"Maybe you're right," Robin conceded, looking behind the door.

Still studying the floor, Belle shook her head. There was something else here, if only she could pinpoint exactly what it was that her instincts were telling her. _Empty _was too easy of an explanation. She let a breath out, speaking slowly. "I don't think so."

"There's nothing _here_," Regina snarled impatiently. "Look around. It's an empty room."

"And it's not even a _big_ empty room," Robin added, lowering his bow. "I think Regina's right. We've been sent on a wild goose chase."

It sounded eminently logical, even the bit about the message having been a forgery designed to pull them away from the main war effort. And yet—Belle couldn't quite believe that. Her instincts were still screaming that something else was going on. As she kicked a pile of straw in frustration, Belle's toe caught on a small lip on the floor, sending her tumbling to the ground. She landed hard on her hands and knees, yelping as the palm of her left hand caught on something metal.

"Lady Belle, are you all right?" True to form, Robin leapt to her side, hooking a hand under her elbow to help Belle to her feet.

She blinked, staring at her hand. "I'm fine."

Before Robin could stop her, Belle dropped back to her hands and knees, running her hands along the floor and looking for the bit of metal she had cut her hand on. Within moments, she found it, and then, moving her hands outwards, was able to identify a square outline that was roughly four feet square. Unable to help herself, Belle started to grin.

"There's a trap door down here!" she exclaimed, her heart racing.

Regina swung into action. "Move and I'll open it," she ordered, the glowing ball already hovering over Belle. But Belle clambered to her knees instead of getting up.

"Why don't we just try to open it the normal way instead?" she replied, groping for and finding a handle buried beneath the dirt and the straw. "Help me pull it up, Robin."

The outlaw leaned over and grabbed the handle with her. Belle stood, and then they heaved together. Surprisingly, the trap door opened immediately, its hinges barely squeaking in protest. Belle shot Regina an apologetic smile.

"Let's save your magic for when we really need it."

"Right."

"There's a ladder here. I'll go first," Robin cut in before Regina could say more, slinging his bow over his shoulder and then matching actions to words. The ladder was steep and made of iron, almost straight up and down. Belle couldn't see how long the ladder was as Robin swung himself onto the first few rungs and started down; the bottom of it disappeared into an even darker gloom. The air coming from beneath the trapdoor was colder, too, which she supposed made sense since the ladder led into an underground chamber of some sort.

"Can you send that little ball of light down here, Regina?" Robin called up when the darkness had almost swallowed him.

"Sure." The blue ball zoomed through the opening, skirting past Robin and into the space beneath him. Peering down, Belle could just make out the floor beneath the outlaw, stone and covered in shadows of some sort. Was that dirt? Whatever it was, the floor looked like it was only a story or so beneath the room Belle was now in.

"It looks like a cellar of some sort," she told Regina as the sorceress leaned down next to her.

There was room enough on the ladder now; Robin was over halfway down. Without waiting for Regina, Belle hopped onto the ladder, hissing in pain when her cut hand made contact with cold metal. Still, the sting wasn't so bad, so she ignored the cut and headed down. She could wrap it up later. In the meantime, there was a mystery to investigate.

"I'm at the bottom!" Robin called up, and Belle quickened her pace. It was easier to climb now that she could see each rung, so her feet hit the ground shortly after Robin's. He headed left and she went right, with the ball of light hovering in between them.

Regina was on the ladder before Robin's soft exclamation of surprise startled Belle.

"Good heavens," the outlaw whispered, and Belle whirled around to follow his gaze.

There was a slender figure chained against the far wall, blindfolded, gagged, and covered in blood. Shoulder-length, matted hair covered most of his face, but Belle would have known those features anywhere. She launched into motion, sprinting forward before she even knew where her feet were carrying her.

"_Rumplestiltskin!"_

* * *

_**A/N:**__Thank you to all the wonderful folks who have reviewed so far! Please do take the time to let me know what you think of this story, and stay tuned for Chapter 3: "The Price", in which we learn the last year of Rumplestiltskin's story._


	4. Chapter 3: The Price

_**Warning: This chapter includes depictions of torture. If that's not your cup of tea, read the first scene and then skip to the last scene.**_

* * *

_**Chapter Three—"The Price"**_

* * *

One Year Ago:

"_But I'm a villain," he said softly, meaning every word, "and villains don't get happy endings."_

_Fire was already spreading outwards from the wound in his chest, and Rumplestiltskin knew he didn't have long. His curse was screaming wildly in his mind, fighting against the very _idea _of ending things this way, but it was the only way to save those he loved…and that was more important than anything else. For once in his long life, he was going to do the right thing. No matter what it took. No matter what the price._

_He twisted the dagger, and within seconds, Rumplestiltskin and his father vanished in a flash of blindingly brilliant white light. Pain surged outwards from the wound, engulfing them both, and though Rumplestiltskin did not cry out—he was too focused, all but shaking with determination and resolve—Malcolm did. Magic, both Rumplestiltskin's protesting curse and pure white _power_ surrounded them, pulling them into a vortex of agony and energy. The world went black, then gold, and then white again, and suddenly there was nothing._

_Moments of emptiness passed. Was he floating? _

_He was alone. Time had no meaning. Nothing happened—until something did._

The first thing he tasted was grass, sticking up his nostrils and in his mouth. His eyes were still closed, and the left side of his chest still throbbed, thumping in time with the beating of his heart, hard and fast and painful. Slowly, he forced his eyes open, blinking when a blade of grass poked into his left eye. Everything hurt, and the left shoulder of his expensive suit felt stiff, as if it was covered in blood.

Maybe it was.

Swallowing, Rumplestiltskin slowly forced himself into a sitting position, his limbs shaking as he did so. It was so _quiet_. And the sunlight was brighter than he would have expected, or at least brighter than the day had been in Storybrooke—

_Storybrooke._ His head whipped around wildly, but he was in an empty clearing. Utterly empty. There were trees less than fifty yards away in pretty much every direction, but no sign of civilization at all. Judging from his surroundings, he was somewhere on the west end of the Enchanted Forest—centuries of memory told him that that specific breed of elm tree only grew there. But there was no one else there. No sign of life whatsoever.

Had Regina cast her curse yet? Were Belle and Bae all right? What if—

With an effort, he shoved his desire to panic down. Regina would come through, even though she'd hate the cost of what she had to do. That meant the others would probably be along shortly, depending upon how long it took Regina's curse to meet Pan's and how much time had passed since he'd killed himself.

Ah. There was the rub. He'd killed himself and—

That was why it was so quiet. The magic-blocking cuff was still on his left wrist, but it didn't matter. The whispers no longer filled his mind, driving him towards murder and mayhem and rage. His curse was _broken. _Silent. Gone. For the first time in three hundred years, Rumplestiltskin's mind was solely his own. The darkness that had controlled his soul for so many years was…gone.

The fingers of his right hand closed on a familiar ribbed hilt, and he turned his head to look at the dagger. Blood glistened on the blade, his and Pan's both, filling the delicate engravings and starting to dry already. Holding his breath, Rumplestiltskin turned the blade over, looking for the letters he had seen there for three centuries.

The dagger was blank.

He was free. He was utterly without magic, but he was _free_. Rumplestiltskin had wondered, very briefly, if sacrificing himself to save Henry in Neverland might wind up like this, if the magic inherent in a self-sacrifice might save him and break his curse, but he'd not dared to hope. Even when he'd planned to kill Pan for the right reasons, he'd not really thought that it would save him. He was the _Dark One_, after all, and even sacrificing himself to save his grandson would probably not be enough to do both. Odds had always been that he would simply die, and he'd made peace with that. So, when he'd come out to face Pan without magic, the thought had never crossed his mind. He had only wanted to save Bae, Belle, and the others—

"You have come a long way to return to us, Dark One."

Staggering to his feet, Rumplestiltskin spun to face where the voice had come from behind him. No one had been there moments earlier, but the familiar taste of magic was in the air. It was sharp and tangy, power overlaid with darkness, a flavor he knew well. His right hand closed desperately around the dagger; it was his only defense now that he was without magic of his own, but judging from the sudden appearance of these people, he would stand no chance.

Had he magic, facing off with these five would be simple—not that he would have stuck around for a drawn-out fight; that wasn't his style at all. Even without it, he could see that the tall red-haired woman who had spoken was the real threat. Although the four individuals behind her were all clearly magic users—two of them had small balls of magic in their hands already—she was the threat. Rumplestiltskin had never seen her before, and had never heard of anyone even remotely like her, but he knew power when he saw it. And that woman had _power_.

_Fantastic. I have nothing save my formidable intelligence to get myself out of this one._

"I'm afraid you've got the wrong man, dearie," he replied casually, shifting his weight so that he was standing more evenly. Even after healing his leg in Neverland—properly healing it, not just managing the injury with magic as he had for so many centuries—Rumplestiltskin been unable to shake the habit of putting more weight on his left leg than his right. Had it been worth it, leaving himself powerless? He'd know soon enough.

She smiled, porcelain smooth skin crinkling slightly at the corners of her mouth. The woman, whoever or whatever she claimed to be, was truly beautiful. Stunning was perhaps a better word, with flawless features framed by flaming red hair. Her face was too perfect. There was magic working here.

"Rumplestiltskin, I presume?" the woman asked. Her voice was low, almost soothing. It immediately put him on his guard.

Still, he smiled his old sly smile, knowing that the threat of power was almost as good as power itself, and a bluff was only a bluff if your opponent knew you were lying. He twirled his left hand for emphasis. "But of course. And you are?"

"That will keep," she answered easily, and something in the tone of her voice gave him pause.

Rumplestiltskin studied the stranger—all five of them, truly, but a second evaluation revealed that the silver and black clad woman remained the most dangerous of the bunch. The man and woman at her back were more _overtly _dangerous, and were clearly trying very hard to distract him, so he kept his eyes on their leader. Meanwhile, his mind whirled over possibilities, probabilities, and the slightly odd feel of magic in the air. Centuries of knowledge and study hadn't abandoned him when his curse broke, and the answer came to him almost as quickly as she deflected his question.

"I knew the fae had escaped the curse, but I did not expect to see you wandering this far out," he commented mildly, watching the other four faces. Aside from the dangerous two, there were two other men, an interesting fact in itself. There were no male _fairies_, only male fae, and they were rare indeed. Yet this woman had three of them with her, undoubtedly to send a message of some sort.

"You are clever," the fae leader replied, a smile touching her face. For some reason, she seemed happy with that knowledge. Worry knotted up in his stomach, but Rumplestiltskin smiled.

"I aim to please."

One smooth white hand came up, and long fingers curled slightly. Even with the cuff on, even without magic, he could feel the power building up, could feel it hesitating in the air and ready to strike. The red-haired fae smiled.

"Oh, you shall indeed."

He opened his mouth to respond, but magic lashed out and the world went dark before he could say a word.

* * *

Hands on his shoulders pushed _down_, and even as Rumplestiltskin clawed his way back into consciousness, those hands shoved him down on his back. Hard.

The impact with the stone floor knocked the wind out of him, leaving him gasping for air. Fingers buried themselves in his long hair and yanked back, making him yelp in pain. Before he knew what was happening, a blindfold wrapped itself over his eyes, tightly enough that he saw stars beneath the cloth. Disoriented, a moment passed before Rumplestiltskin even started to struggle, and by then there were hands on his wrists and ankles both. He tried to fight, but he'd always been slender and he was still weak from the wound in his chest. The fae—they _had_ to be fae—overpowered him easily, holding him against the cold floor.

Magic tingled over his skin, fast and sharp, making hairs stand up on the back of his neck. One spell swept down from his head to his toes, and a different one swept back up along the same path. The first was merely exploratory, but the second vanished his clothes and left him naked.

"What—" Rumplestiltskin tried to protest, but the moment his mouth was open, an iron cylinder shoved into it, making him gag as cold metal knocked against his teeth, shoving down into his throat.

Metal pressed up against his nose, blocking his airflow and forcing his head back with the impact. But a hand remained anchored in his hair, yanking Rumplestiltskin up short when he tried to escape the gag. Straps, also made of metal, jerked tight against his neck, and Rumplestiltskin choked as he felt the gag buckle tightly into place. The straps connected to the mouthpiece and plate over his nose by hinges, and the entire contraption was very rough. The metal edges cut into his skin even as the gag itself sliced his tongue open, and Rumplestiltskin tried to cry out in pain. The gag muffled it down to a pained whimper, but at least he could breathe through a small hole in the faceplate.

Sort of. The gag restricted his airflow significantly. Panicking, he found himself gasping for air while the fae fastened metal of some sort around his wrists and ankles. This material was cold, too, but lighter and smoother than the iron gag. Still, the bands tightened, and then he felt the tingle of magic and they tightened again, squeezing bones together painfully. Another cry tore out of his air-starved chest, setting off a round of choking and coughing whist he struggled for air. Several long minutes passed before Rumplestiltskin could control his breathing, and he finally managed to suck in a somewhat calm breath.

Then metal closed around his neck, shrinking down and shooting magic into his system. Nerve endings exploded, and stars exploded in front of his eyes. Rumplestiltskin tried to scream, only to be unable to find enough air to do so. Thrashing helplessly against the hands holding him, he convulsed in pain, struggling for air while he continued trying to scream. Several minutes passed as magic raced through his system, darkness ripping and slashing and clawing into him. But the fae held him down until the convulsions stopped, and the magical attack finally died down.

Panting for air, Rumplestiltskin slumped weakly, and did not resist as the hands holding him lifted his shaking body, fastening additional shackles around his wrists and ankles. The restraints were not as restrictive as the bands, but they were still tight enough to hurt. They pulled his arms and legs uncomfortably far apart, and Rumplestiltskin cried out again as his chest and face crashed into a cold stone wall.

"Begin," the female fae's voice commanded.

Rumplestiltskin screamed as the whip bit into his back.

* * *

Months passed in darkness, in pain. The fae spoke to him rarely, usually only to bark a command which he would inevitably try to ignore. Rumplestiltskin's body weakened quickly; he was human and helpless, and the fae seemed to have little knowledge of human nutritional concerns. Or perhaps they just didn't care, and were happy to keep him functioning with magic instead of feeding him often enough. They gave him plenty of water, frequently dunking him headlong into a barrel of freezing cold water until Rumplestiltskin was near drowned, choking and struggling for air while he coughed up the water his stomach could not absorb.

Assuming they came once per day, it had been eighty-two days since the fae had taken him, eighty-two days of torture with no explanation. Rumplestiltskin's mind was in a constant whirl of pain and magic; the collar kept darkness swirling over him like a second skin when the younger fae were not there to torture him. The only respite he received was when he passed out from exhaustion or pain—

Hot irons touched his left side, right on top of broken ribs. Convulsing in the chains, Rumplestiltskin howled weakly in pain, his face pressed against the hard stone. Sometimes they chained his back against the wall and others his front; today was the later, and the hot irons moved on to his back.

Screaming into the gag, Rumplestiltskin felt flesh sizzling under the irons. After a moment, they lifted, and then moved a little to the right and then came down again, and he screeched. White flashed in front of his eyes, blindfolded since that very first day, and when the irons touched his skin for a fourth time, he felt hot tears splash down his face. The irons lifted and came down again, leaving Rumplestiltskin to shudder and shake, hanging weakly in his chains and sobbing in pain.

Right side this time; the smell of burning flesh filled the cellar. He yearned to know _why _they tortured him, what they wanted or _anything_—but he could only struggle to breathe through the agony. The only time the fae removed the gag was to near drown him, and they shoved it back into his mouth each time before he could begin to voice a question or even catch his breath.

The irons traveled downwards, burning his skin every inch or so as he shook violently in agony. The only good part about this routine was that it cauterized the still-bleeding wounds from the most recent whipping, but a human body could only absorb so much pain. Still sobbing, growing weaker by the moment, Rumplestiltskin's head began to spin wildly as he drifted closer and closer to unconsciousness—but then a fae's hand touched the back of his neck, and magic flooded into him, dragging him forcibly back from the edge. Renewed awareness slammed into him, and Rumplestiltskin screeched once more.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

He'd lost count somewhere after one hundred and twenty torture sessions. Somewhere around that point, _she _had come back, and the physical torture had been replaced by an assault of magic like he had never felt before. It felt like darkness was trying to claw into his soul, like tendrils of sheer evil were working their way into everything he was and everything he could be—and pain ripped out of his insides with every breath he took. Rumplestiltskin could still identify magic, could still feel it racing through him and knew what it was doing, but he could do nothing about it. All his years of accumulating knowledge were useless, now. He was utterly defenseless.

She departed after another dozen or more sessions; he could not tell how many after the darkness lashed into him so strongly. Rumplestiltskin's mind tipped off the edge of coherency and started to float. Only the pain seemed able to make him lucid, and then only for short periods. He only shook and screamed, flinching when hands came close and struggling for air. She came more often as his mind grew foggier, as it started to tumble aimlessly through memory and…and something. Nothing made sense any more.

He didn't even know what she _wanted_.

A hand touched the back of his neck as he sobbed into the wall, magic still crackling over him, darkness still clawing into his soul. How she could touch him without it harming her was a mystery; this amount of power should attack even the caster. But her long fingers caressed the back of his head, moving slowly as Rumplestiltskin shook wildly.

"Do not fight it," she whispered, and he wanted to call her a fool because he _wasn't _fighting. He was only trying to breathe through the agony. The pain was so intense that he had a hard time remembering even his own name.

_Rumplestiltskin_, a voice in his mind whispered, and it sounded like Belle.

Belle. Her face flashed in front of his eyes, broken and horrified and proud because she _knew _what he was going to do to kill Pan, standing next to Bae while—

Darkness stabbed in, magic trying to shred his soul, and Rumplestiltskin screamed in pain, convulsing wildly. Her hand stroked his hair, her touch an absurdly gentle contrast to the power racing through him and making his limbs spasm.

"Just let go," she whispered, squeezing the back of his skull tightly and then releasing him. He couldn't hear her step back, but she must have, because then a whip lashed into the torn skin of his back, and Rumplestiltskin screamed again.

Usually the magical attack withdrew before they started to physically torture him, but not this time. This time the whips and the irons and the beatings came with the darkness, and _she _did not leave.

* * *

Three quarters of the way through the year, he was an utterly wasted mess of pain, owner of a mind that cartwheeled through memories and coherency without following any logical pattern. Some of the images flashing through his mind didn't even come out of his own past; they were like snapshots into someone else's life, like the memories that he had once inherited with the now-broken curse of the Dark One. But these were different, older, shadowed in pain like his own and so very hard to differentiate from the present.

Either that past or his own memories had entirely too much knowledge concerning torture, and he recognized nearly every method they used on him, from the rack to boiling water to weights pressing down on him and more. Once they burned his eyes out with the hot irons, though _her _magic fixed that some sessions later so that they could do it again as he howled and shook and tried to beg through the gag. That process repeated itself again and again until he flinched wildly whenever hands even started to come near his face, until one day she healed his eyes and they simply tied the blindfold back on as he trembled in fear.

They never _asked _anything, not even when she came. The female fae only told him not to fight it, clearly angered by _something_, but Rumplestiltskin could not comprehend what. Somewhere amidst the pain he came to the conclusion that their goal had to be to grind all resistance and sense of self out of him, but why? He was already terrified, utterly unable to fight them and willing to do almost anything in order to make the pain stop. But they never asked.

When they shoved something into his body and he felt it expand, Rumplestiltskin knew it had to be a pear. _Le poire d'angoisser_, the kingdom that had created the device had named it, and the petals tore into his innards as he screamed in agony. The pressure only increased as it expanded, and he thrashed in his chains with energy he'd not known he still had, sobbing wordlessly for the pain to stop.

It didn't.

* * *

Present Day:

They'd left him with his back against the wall that day, with stone rubbing against fresh burns as he dangled by his wrists, utterly unable to support himself. Breathing was so hard, but something kept his body functioning; was that part of the magic she had worked on him? There were layers and layers he could not identify, darkness and power and pain that tore through him at the slightest touch. Sometimes the magic attacked for days on end—or what he thought of as days, anyway; it might have been months—but for now it was silent. The lesser fae had left him alone sometime earlier, shaking and bleeding and sobbing for air.

Voices; he flinched helplessly. Any concept of time he'd once possessed had been burned out of him, but he'd hoped they'd be gone longer. A tiny bit of light crept in beneath the lower right hand corner of the blindfold, and his trembling grew more violent. His breathing came faster and harder until he was almost hyperventilating, choking for air around the gag as footsteps closed in on him. Another voice came, and then there were hands on his face—

Rumplestiltskin recoiled weakly, whimpering in pain and terror as fingers brushed against his broken left cheekbone, still swollen from a beating not too many sessions before. His entire body burned. He couldn't—he _couldn't_—

"Rumple?" a distant voice whispered frantically. It was female, but not _her_. Hands reached around the back of his head, untying the blindfold, and he shied away from the touch, but the blindfold came off, anyway.

"Regina, _get down here!_" the same voice shouted, and recognition twinged at the corner of his memory. Light in so much darkness. A beautiful face framed by dark hair, with blue eyes that looked at him as if…

The light—blue and magic—drifted closer as he tried to open his eyes, making him squint against brightness and pain when he tried to open his eyes. Someone else spoke as hands fumbled with the gag, momentarily pulling it tighter against his face and shoving the metal cylinder deeper into his throat. He choked helplessly, but then it was gone, and Rumplestiltskin could breathe more easily for the first time in forever.

"That's not possible," someone else whispered, and suddenly the chains holding him up released as arms caught him and lowered him to the ground. Two sets of hands brushed against burns and wounds on his chest and back, making Rumplestiltskin moan in pain. He couldn't stop shaking, couldn't comprehend what was happening as the shackles on his ankles released, too. His head was on something other than cold stone. Not the floor. Softer. Someone's lap?

He wanted to curl up and sob, but moving hurt too much, so he lay still, tense and trembling violently. A hand touched his face again, this time on the less damaged right side.

"Rumple?" she whispered. He knew the voice. _Remembered_.

"Belle…?" he croaked, his voice rusty from screaming and disuse. Her name was the first word he'd spoken in over a year, and he felt her shake in relief before he passed out.

* * *

_**A/N: **__Wow! Thank you again for all the awesome reviews! My heart is utterly warmed by the fantastic reception I received, which has certainly encouraged me to update faster. Stay tuned for Chapter 4: "The Impossible," in which Rumplestiltskin is his usual difficult self, gets in a spat with Regina, and generally tries to claw his way towards sanity._

_In the meantime, I have a question for all of you! Do you think Rumplestiltskin is as magic-less as he believes, or will he be able to find a way to use magic?_


	5. Chapter 4: The Impossible

_**Chapter Four—"The Impossible"**_

Regina stared at the blood covered figure in Belle's arms for several long moments, gathering her thoughts carefully. Belle's hands were shaking, and the younger woman looked torn between terror and overwhelming joy, but Regina refused to fall into that trap. Rumplestiltskin was _dead_. They'd all seen what happened in Storybrooke, and there was no way in hell that Rumplestiltskin would allow himself to be trussed up and tortured like this. The imp always had a trick up his sleeve, and even when the Charmings had locked him up, only they, the insufferable do-gooders that they were, had been foolish enough to think he couldn't walk out of that cell at any time. Oh, Regina had been fooled at first, too, but then she'd actually listened to what he was saying.

"_But why would I desire that, dearie? I'm exactly where I want to be," _he had said to her a lifetime ago, locked in a dwarf- and fairy-made cage that he could have left the moment the fancy struck him. Was that what was happening here? Was the old trickster at it again, having fooled them all into thinking he was dead en route to the next step of his cursed longer game?

No. Regina couldn't allow her own imagination to run away with her. Rumplestiltskin had killed himself, an admittedly out of character action for the imp, yet one that had definitely happened. She'd _watched _it happen. Felt the magic swirling, both the darkness and the something else that had swallowed Rumplestiltskin and Pan together. It had been done with typically Rumplestiltskin-like flair, too, albeit with also more honesty than could usually be expected from him. That hadn't been a doppelganger dying in Storybrooke. This…whatever-he-was (_who_ever he was) had reacted with fear to Belle and Robin's hands, had flinched away like someone who had been tortured beyond human endurance. Ergo, it was not Rumplestiltskin. And this was some sort of trap.

"Belle. Robin. Step away from him," she said steadily, raising her hands. Whoever it was appeared to be unconscious, but Regina was taking no chances. Not with the mark she'd seen outside the door to this miserable little stone hut, and certainly not considering the message Belle had decoded.

Robin, thankfully, listened immediately, rising and stepping away from the mystery man. He shot Regina a curious look full of questions, but he trusted her enough to do as she said without hesitation. Belle, however, completely ignored her.

_Such a foolish girl_. Regina wanted to groan aloud, wanted to say things that definitely weren't in keeping with her own attempts to be better than she'd been in the past. _Too brave by half, and never one to obey orders._ "Belle," she snapped impatiently. "Step away. _Now._"

"What?" The younger woman finally looked up at Regina, her pretty face a mask of confusion.

"You know this can't be him." Regina tried to gentle her voice, but the words still came out harshly. "He's _dead_, Belle. We all saw—"

"Would you know Robin anywhere?" Belle cut her off harshly, and Regina's heart clenched inexplicably tight.

"That's not the same," she protested weakly.

"It _is_," Belle insisted, those damnably honest eyes of hers boring into Regina's. "I don't know how or why, but it's him. So, are you going to help him or not?"

Robin arrived at her side before Regina could figure out how to answer Belle's plea, touching her arm and giving her a concerned look. "What's going on, Regina?" the outlaw asked quietly.

"I'm not sure," she murmured, swallowing. "This should be impossible."

"_What_ should be impossible?" Robin demanded. "Obviously the two of you are on some page I've been left off of, and I have absolutely no idea what's happening. So explain, if you please."

Regina scowled, but Belle answered immediately, her voice firm. "This is Rumplestiltskin."

"We don't know that," Regina interjected before Robin could protest that Rumplestiltskin was supposed to be dead. _Everyone _in the Enchanted Forest knew that, after all, and it didn't bear repeating.

"I do."

"No, you _don't_," Regina snapped. "Look, Belle, I know what you want this to be—believe me, I _know_"—her voice cracked as memories of Daniel welled up, as she remembered turning her True Love into dust and ash—"but magic can't bring back the dead. And even if he hadn't died, somehow, we're back home. He wouldn't be human."

The bloody figure on the ground most certainly was human, without a flicker of shimmering gray-gold skin in sight. However, because his skin was actually hard to see beneath the wounds and the blood, Regina flipped a hand in his direction, just to be sure. A spark of magic leapt out of her palm willingly, speeding towards the man. The cellar was awfully dark, after all, still only illuminated by the flying ball of light she'd cast earlier. Senses could be tricked by careful enough spell work, and she would find whatever the catch was. Her magic swept over the prone form, confirming that yes, indeed, he was human. But waking.

"I hate to disappoint you, dearie," the man in Belle's arms rasped weakly, "but I was always human beneath the curse." He coughed, his entire body shaking. "And my curse is definitely…broken."

Awake, then. Though her spell was now feeding Regina an enormous amount of information on his physical condition, none of it was good. Her ears told her that breathing was obviously difficult for this fake-Rumplestiltskin, and the magic verified that the multitude of injuries were, at the very least, extremely real. There wasn't a glamor at work here hiding something deadly. Armed with that knowledge, she did the only thing she could think of, short of killing the imposter then and there.

"How?" Regina demanded.

He laughed weakly, an oddly familiar cadence to the breathless chuckle. "Killed myself…remember?" he whispered. "Or tried to, anyway."

Dizzy brown eyes flicked away from her, looking up at the woman who still cradled her head in his arms. Looking at her made his expression, still tight with pain, soften. "Belle…I'm sorry. So sorry…"

He coughed again, cutting off whatever else he was going to say with a convulsion. Regina swatted her glowing ball of light closer to his face, and watched him squint painfully. Belle, however, ignored the petty trick.

"Don't be sorry," Belle replied, her voice choked with emotion. "You're alive."

"Yes, and you won't be for long if you don't start explaining," Regina interjected, earning herself another furious look from Belle. Robin watched the pair of them cautiously, his eyes flickering back and forth as he assimilated everything that had been said and had been implied. But another low laugh came from the figure on the floor, ending in a racking cough that made his entire body shake.

"You're a smart woman…figure it out."

Realization hit Regina like the proverbial ton of bricks, making her snarl. Either this was Rumplestiltskin, or someone was doing the impersonation job of the century. Who else could combine so much snarkiness with the sickeningly soft expression Gold always wore while looking at Belle? "You're not saying—"

"Right in one." Rumplestiltskin's eyes slid shut.

"You bastard! You _knew_!"

"No…I didn't."

Rumplestiltskin passed out again.

* * *

Floating in a sea of pain, several moments passed before Rumplestiltskin could process the argument raging around him. Someone had wrapped him in a blanket—probably Belle, _Belle_, whose presence anchored him to sanity instead of the confusion and fear that had ruled his world for the last…however long it had been. He was warmer than he'd felt in forever, but still shivering, possibly with fever or maybe because he was just cold. It was hard to tell. His subconscious kept trying to reach for magic that he didn't have, listening for whispers that weren't there.

They were done quarrelling. Apparently he'd convinced Regina, hard though it had been to summon up the necessary _personality _to do so instead of curling up and sobbing out his soul in Belle's arms. His mind was still trying to jump headlong off a cliff; focusing was almost impossible, yet he'd managed it earlier and would have to manage it again. He wasn't going to show them how damaged he was.

"…I'm sorry," Regina was saying, her voice coming from what sounded like a great distance. "My magic…well, I was never much interested in learning anything that wasn't _dark _magic. I'm no healer. I can't help him. And if someone doesn't soon…I don't think he'll last the night."

"What?" That was Belle's horrified whisper, coming from very close. His hand was held in hers, Rumplestiltskin realized, his head still in her lap. Someone had moved him to his right side while he was unconscious, and the position was significantly more comfortable than on his back.

Everything still hurt so much. He had no hope of categorizing what hurt most; his body parts throbbed alternately, one pain overtaking another so quickly that it was hard to keep track of. But at least the pain could help him stay coherent, could help him fight off the memories and not-memories and somehow give the appearance of something like sanity.

"I've written Snow," the third voice, the male voice, said. It was vaguely familiar, but his sluggish mind refused to remember how he recognized it. His memories of everything before the pain were so scattered; thinking was hard.

"And?" Regina prompted.

"She says that Tink left hours ago to join up with the army, something about an ambush and injuries and such. So I wrote Charming, and…"

He lost the rest of the sentence beneath a wave of pain, and a soft whimper escaped as he convulsed. The closer to full consciousness he came, the more the pain dug in. The convulsion died down, leaving his body shaking wildly.

"Can't you do anything at all?" Belle asked quietly.

"The only thing I can do is knock him out so that he doesn't feel the pain," his old student replied.

Yes, it was time to insert himself into the conversation, no matter how much talking hurt. Dredging up all the strength he had, Rumplestiltskin managed to whisper: "No."

"Rumple?" Belle's hand immediately squeezed his, making his lips twitch in what might have been a smile, once.

"Still here," he managed around his swollen tongue, tasting blood. How to explain to them that he probably wasn't going to die? He was pretty certain that the bands around his neck, wrists, and ankles were working some sort of magic on him, keeping him alive at the very least. "I'm…"

Unexpectedly, his mind took a right turn and the words he'd been planning to speak were buried under memories.

_Pain. White light lancing through his soul, suffocating darkness racing up to meet it. "Not this time, old friend," she said, and he screamed._

_The dagger. Split imagery. One: someone (him?) flat on his back on a table as a shadowy demon hovered, trapped, over his body and the dagger lying on his chest. Two: upright this time, chained to the wall, the dagger pressing against his heart, against the still-open wound he'd inflicted on himself, and power arcing red and black between the two. Both: screaming wildly._

Differentiating between reality and whatever else was impossible. Even his memories were hopelessly scrambled. How could he hope to concentrate on the here and now?

"…significant internal bleeding," Regina was saying. "When he's conscious, it won't be for long."

_A hand on the back of his neck, _pressing_, and power forced its way into him, clawing at his soul. The hand stroked his hair as he screamed._

"What _are _these?" Belle asked, and he could almost feel her hand hovering over one of the bands.

"They look bronze," the man answered contemplatively. "No fastenings, though. Magic?"

"Definitely," Regina answered him, sounding less irritable than Rumplestiltskin expected her to. His little evil queen had always disliked pointing out the obvious.

"Fae magic," he managed to put in, forcibly turning his mind to the present. Old tricks worked; he could still focus with an effort. Three centuries of training his mind to respond to magic hadn't been wasted, then. He could still _think._

He'd started to wonder about that sometime during the torture, when he'd been reduced to a mere vessel for fear and pain. Was that what the fae had wanted? To strip him of coherent thought, of his humanity, of anything that made him who he was? Instinct told him he was correct—_"Just let go. Don't fight. Lose yourself, and everything will be all right."—_but why? Why the promises, why the pain? Not knowing had been even worse than the torture itself.

"You mean fairy magic," Regina corrected him, pulling Rumplestiltskin free of his musings.

"No. There's…a difference." A significant one, but he couldn't dredge up the energy to explain. Another hard cough shook his body, and Rumplestiltskin tried unsuccessfully to bite back a moan of pain.

"The fae vanished hundreds of years ago. _You _taught me that," his protégé reminded him.

"Well, I'm afraid…I don't have the energy to continue your education at the moment," he retorted weakly, not mentioning that he didn't have the concentration to sort out relevant history from the agonized haze in his mind.

"Don't antagonize him," Belle chided Regina.

"Me? I'm not—oh, nevermind." He could hear her pacing. "Any response yet, Robin?"

"I'll go outside and check. It's kind of dark to read in here." Footsteps retreated, and he fought the urge to flinch. Footsteps meant pain—

_Focus! Now is not the time to be a coward._

But he was still terrified. What happened if they came back? Regina might be able to hold off any pair of the lesser fae, but not _her. _Her magic was fathomless and immense, and she'd squash Regina like a bug. He had a hard time remembering what her face looked like, but he remembered her power well enough. Shaking again, Rumplestiltskin tried unsuccessfully to swallow back the fear that thought brought with it. However, Belle's hands still held his, and she squeezed gently when his breathing started to come harder and faster. Her lips brushed against his forehead, and Rumplestiltskin felt an echo of power spike through him.

Only once before had he felt that surge, felt the sheer_ golden _magic sizzle through his veins. That had been moments before he'd yanked away from the woman he loved, consumed by rage and by fear, shoving her away instead of accepting that which she freely offered. Then he'd been powerful and yet had been dwarfed by the strength in her kiss, now he felt an echo calling to him, a memory of magic he no longer felt. Yet it was not just his memory. Couldn't be. Magic had been different in Storybrooke, and he'd never felt this there.

Her presence, her light kiss, calmed him, and Rumplestiltskin let out a shaky breath. Belle kept him anchored, always had.

"I love you, Rumplestiltskin," she whispered softly.

"…love you," he echoed, coughing back what tried to be a whimper of pain.

"I'll be right here," Belle said fiercely, and he could feel her glowering at Regina even though his eyes were shut.

He tried to smile for her, tried to tell her again how much he loved her, but then his mind folded under and memories assaulted him once more.

* * *

"David caught Tink just before she left. She's on her way," Robin announced as he ducked through the doorway several minutes later.

They'd brought Rumplestiltskin up from the cellar during his first bout of unconsciousness, and then Regina had cleaned him up with magic as best he could. Belle had wrapped his shivering body in the blanket out of her pack, trying not to notice how thin or hurt he was. Even while delirious, he whimpered periodically in pain, flinching away from hands that weren't there and shaking violently. She didn't dare think about how long they had hurt him for or how he'd gotten to Bremen—if Belle did, she might panic, and panicking wasn't what Rumplestiltskin needed at the moment. He needed her to be strong, so strong she would be.

He was _alive._ That was what mattered, that and keeping him alive. Regina's doubts made it hard to focus on the positive, though, but Belle kept reminding herself that Regina had admitted she knew little to nothing of healing. _She has to be wrong, _Belle told herself for the hundredth time, looking down at the fragile man twitching fitfully in her lap. She'd thought she'd lost him forever, and Belle refused to give up on him now.

"How long?" she asked Robin, terribly glad for his presence. Regina was growing more irritated by the moment, which Belle didn't blame her for—it only meant the queen was worried—but Robin handled her beautifully, deflecting the nasty comments with his smile before they could rise.

"Four or five hours," the outlaw replied, and Belle bit her lip. Did Rumplestiltskin have hours?

"Good," Regina bit out, making Belle's head snap around.

"What do you mean 'good'?" she demanded.

"I mean I'm still not convinced. This is entirely too convenient."

"It doesn't look convenient from where I'm sitting!"

Rumplestiltskin moaned softly, and Belle looked down worriedly. She hadn't meant to shout, but she was sick and tired of Regina's incessant doubts. Her heart knew this was Rumplestiltskin. It wasn't false hope, and she wasn't deceiving herself. True Love didn't _lie_, and Belle knew it was him as surely as she knew her own name. She'd know him anywhere, and Regina knew that, too, if only she'd let herself believe. Swallowing, she squeezed her love's hands again, but he didn't respond, sleeping or unconscious again.

She hoped it was sleeping. He was probably exhausted.

"She doesn't mean it that way, Belle," Robin interjected, again the voice of reason. "Regina, love, what do you mean?"

Regina stopped pacing when Robin put a hand on her arm, softening slightly. The older woman sighed, and gave Belle what might have been an apologetic look; it was hard to tell in the dark interior of the hut, with only Regina's magic lighting the room. The door was still open, but sunset had long since passed, and even the full moon outside didn't add much light to the closed off building. "Only that it makes no sense. Nothing adds up. First of all, assuming the letter you deciphered was real, Belle, it can only refer to Rumplestiltskin—but with his curse broken, he has no power. So an object of great magical power _can't _be him.

"Additionally, some of those wounds are really old. Those…bands are interfering with my ability to figure out everything that's wrong with him, but since we haven't seen him since our return, I'd guess he's been here the entire time. And why in the world would anyone keep _Rumplestiltskin _alive that long, particularly when he's human?"

Swallowing, Belle fought down a sudden wave of nausea. The curse had returned them to the Enchanted Forest a year ago. Could Rumplestiltskin really have been suffering that entire time? She didn't even want to _think _that, couldn't imagine him living with pain for that long while he knew everyone he loved thought he was dead, and that no one was coming for him. Tears threatened to enter her eyes, but she forced them back. _I'll cry later. Much later_. _Not now._

"Who are the fae?" she asked to distract herself. Perhaps the answer to Regina's question lay in who had locked Rumplestiltskin in here.

"Evil fairies." The queen shrugged. "Followers of the Black Fairy. They vanished centuries ago."

"Obviously they didn't vanish completely if they're still putting her mark on buildings," Robin replied offhandedly, gesturing at the open door. "Could they be working with the Witch?"

"Maybe." Crossing her arms, Regina turned to stare at the door. "But then why would they want him? This still doesn't make any sense."

"Unless it's a distraction?"

But Belle shook her head in response to Robin's question before Regina could answer. "No one would believe it if they told us they had him," she said softly, her eyes drifting back to Rumplestiltskin's shaking shoulders. "Even me. We all watched him die."

Regina was right. The situation made no sense. Oh, the queen had explained that there was magic inherent in a self-sacrifice, perhaps magic enough to save Rumplestiltskin's life when he'd killed Pan to save others, _but _that magic should have been utterly incompatible with dark magic, which was what he must have used to kill Pan. And Belle knew enough about the curse of the Dark One to know that it couldn't be broken without killing the Dark One or without True Love's kiss, and the later definitely hadn't happened that day. True Love's kiss wouldn't work in Storybrooke, anyway; Rumplestiltskin had explained that to her once, in vague terms, about how much of his curse remained trapped in the Enchanted Forest, so they could kiss all they liked without affecting his powers.

Only curses created in Storybrooke could be broken in Storybrooke had been his theory, or at least where the old and powerful ones were concerned. But his curse obviously _was _broken—the face under the blood and the bruises was human, the torn skin pale and flesh colored. His eyes were so very human, too, full of pain when they were open but the same ones she remembered filled with such warmth every time they turned to her. Just looking at Rumplestiltskin hurt, knowing he was in so much pain and unable to help him at all.

All she could do was hold him and hope he hung on long enough for Tinker Bell to arrive.

"Do you think he has another couple of hours?" she asked quietly, hating how tiny her voice sounded.

Looking regretful, Regina shook her head silently. Belle bit her lip again, blinking back tears.

"Can we call another fairy?" Robin asked suddenly. "Someone who might get here faster?"

"You can try," Regina snorted. "It goes without saying that none of them will come to me."

Neither of them bothered to mention that the fairies wouldn't come to Belle, either; in their opinion, she'd been tainted by her association with Rumplestiltskin, even when they'd thought him dead. Robin might stand a chance of summoning one of them, however; the outlaw was enough of a hero type that the fairies probably would like him.

"Right then. I'll go try."

* * *

No fairies answered, even the Blue Fairy when Robin tried to call her. Belle supposed she shouldn't be surprised; Blue had all but told them she would be out of touch for months, and that the humans in the Enchanted Forest would have to fight the war by themselves while she prepared the fairies for something she would not explain. Still, the fairies' inaction rankled, and for once she could see that Regina was in perfect agreement with her. Fairies were supposed to _help _people, but sometimes it seemed like they only did so when it coincided with their agenda, whatever it was. Robin looked at the pair oddly when they voiced that thought, but Regina only shook her head, scowling, while Belle returned her attention to Rumplestiltskin.

Tinker Bell arrived early, just three hours later, stumbling through the door and looking exhausted. But her wand was in hand already, and Regina had met her outside to explain, so Belle only looked up at her hopefully. Against all odds, Rumplestiltskin had been drifting in and out of consciousness for the last hour or so, mostly coherent but obviously in too much pain to say much. Belle only held him as tightly as she dared, whispering to him to hold on when she thought he could hear her. He replied a few times, his words sometimes disjointed and sometimes making sense, but he was still in there, somewhere.

"I'll have to get those bands off before I can do anything," Tink explained softly, her green outfit an odd shade of aquamarine in the harsh blue light. "They're definitely fairy magic—_dark _fairy magic."

"Can you help him?" Belle asked, her heart pounding in her chest.

"I can stabilize him, at least," the fairy replied, lifting her wand as she crouched next to Belle. "I'm pretty tired, and healing this many injuries isn't as simple as just shaking your wand. More will have to wait, I'm afraid."

Ruthlessly, Belle shoved down her own disappointment. "Anything will help." Stabilizing him meant Rumplestiltskin would be in less pain, at least. Didn't it?

"Right, then."

Tink lifted her wand, and it began to glow, filling the hut with a green glimmer that easily overpowered Regina's ball of light. Slowly, she bought the tip of the wand down on the band around Rumplestiltskin's right wrist, and when that began to glow, shifted her wand to the one on his left wrist. Although both started glowing green, like the magic from Tink's wand, their shine slowly grew darker, until the bands shimmered only slightly, an odd mixture of bronze and black. Then Rumplestiltskin let out a sharp whimper, and both snapped open, falling off his wrists and to the floor.

"Don't touch them," Tink ordered, moving onto the bands around his ankles. The same process repeated itself for those, but this time Rumplestiltskin convulsed in pain as they came off, his head snapping back hard in Belle's lap. She squeezed his fingers gently, but he seemed not to notice.

Without a further word, Tinker Bell moved onto the band around his neck, impossibly tight as it was. Belle briefly wondered why Tink hadn't started there, though she supposed that the fairy might have wanted to save the hardest one for last, for once she had enough experience to know that she could get it off quickly. Either way, Tinker Bell's wand touched down after only a moment's hesitation. Much to Belle's surprise, Rumplestiltskin's eyes flew open the moment the wand made contact, and he cried out in pain as the band started to shimmer. His entire body jerked once, and then twice, and Belle could hear him struggling for air.

Finally, the band snapped open, and a flick of Tink's wand pulled it away from Belle's lap, gathering it up with the other four bands and moving the group off to the side. But Belle's attention wasn't on them; she was too busy watching as Rumplestiltskin slumped.

"Rumple?" she whispered frantically. His eyes were closed again, and he was shaking weakly.

"…still here."

She let out an explosive breath of relief, squeezing his hand again. Meanwhile, Tinker Bell raised her wand once more, studying Rumplestiltskin's face.

"Ready?" the fairy asked him, receiving a faint nod in response. "Good. I have to warn you—this might hurt a bit."

Belle thought he tried to laugh, but Tink's wand had already started moving. Its tip began to glow green once more, but the moment the shimmering green dust started moving towards Rumplestiltskin, a burst of red, black, and gold magic leapt off him, hammering into the fairy. Tink crashed into the far wall before she even had a chance to cry out, but the wave of magic slammed into Regina and Robin as well, sending both flying into the same wall.

Belle was left unharmed, left to watch as Rumplestiltskin cried out in shock and in pain, convulsing in her arms.

* * *

_**A/N:**__Thank you again to everyone who reviewed! Today's question is: what do you think that odd magic leaping off Rumplestiltskin was? And if you think you've got that one figured out, how do you think Hook is going to convince Emma to come back to the Enchanted Forest with him? The answers to both those questions will be in Chapter 5: "Inherent Powers". In the meantime, please let me know what you thought of this chapter!_


	6. Chapter 5: Inherent Powers

_**Chapter Five—"Inherent Powers"**_

* * *

"What the _hell _was that?" Regina demanded from where she was splayed against the far wall. To her left, Tink made a small sound that sounded like it might be a similar question, blinking dizzily. Robin only groaned.

Belle could only stare at the three of them; she had no answers. The violent wave of magic hadn't touched her, though she'd watched it leap away from Rumplestiltskin and attack the other three, flinging them away with enough force that Belle had heard the heavy stone wall tremble. The red-gold-black cloud dissipated once it hit the others, but not before Belle _felt _the power in her very bones, vibrating and vicious. Wide-eyed, she looked down at Rumplestiltskin, who had been convulsing only a moment before but had now gone still.

"Rump—"

Her question cut itself off when blue light started crackling over his body. Rumplestiltskin winced, coughing sharply, before his expression went frighteningly still, and had he not let out a ragged breath, Belle might have worried that the magic had killed him. It did continue to spark its way what she could see of his body, flashing brilliantly in the dim light of the hut. However, as she watched, his breathing slowed and eased. The ever-present trembling calmed, too, and before Belle's shocked eyes, the bruises and the cuts on his face started knitting themselves together. One by one, almost as if she was watching the injuries happen in reverse, the wounds started to vanish. And the dried blood vanished with it.

A little color had even returned to his face by the time Regina, Tink, and Robin managed to stagger back over to where Belle still sat with Rumplestiltskin in her arms. He was still deathly pale, but Belle had a feeling that if she pulled back the blanket wrapped around him, Rumplestiltskin's other wounds would be closing as well. Her heart hammered in her chest, hopeful and terrified all at the same time. Minutes earlier, they'd been worried that he might die—but something was _healing_ him. Had Tink done this? Holding her breath, she glanced up at the fairy and the sorceress, but they both seemed to be waiting, too. Waiting and hoping.

"I seem to be saying this a lot, but would someone care to explain what is going on?" Robin asked after several moments of silence.

"That isn't fairy magic," Regina replied.

"Definitely not," Tink agreed. "I didn't do this. And it's still…working."

Robin made a face at both magic users. "Fascinating though I'm sure that information is, it's not _terribly_ useful for the laymen amongst us."

Part of Belle wanted to laugh; the rest of her wasn't sure if sobbing was more appropriate. Not knowing what was happening was terrifying, particularly as Rumplestiltskin's breathing quieted still further. Finally, the blue magic faded away, leaving him wearing an almost peaceful expression. Heart in her throat, she leaned over to plant another soft kiss on his forehead.

"Rumple?" Belle whispered.

His lips twitched slightly before his eyes opened, _opened_ and not squinted, warm and brown and so very human. They were clear, too, not shadowed by pain or by the months of horrors he'd endured, and focused on her. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," Belle managed to say around a grin so big that her face hurt, and he _smiled _at her. Her heart did a backflip, giddy and painful and wonderful all at the same time.

Belle had forgotten that she was still holding his hand until his fingers tightened around hers, and now she had to blink back tears of happiness. Despite her efforts, a few escaped, trickling down her cheeks, warm and wet. Rumplestiltskin was alive. He was _back_, and even if she had a thousand and one questions for him—and she did, there was no doubt about that—he was going to _live_. Compared to that, nothing else mattered.

"Don't cry," Rumplestiltskin whispered, freeing a hand to touch her face. His voice still sounded rough, scratchier and deeper than usual, but it wasn't the high-pitched voice from the Enchanted Forest. He was still human.

"I'm crying because I'm _happy_, you idiot," she managed to respond as his fingers brushed against her cheek, and Belle leaned into his touch. His hand shook slightly, but it was whole, free of wounds and blood both.

"Well, I'm not _un_happy," Rumplestiltskin quipped in response, and Belle's giggle sounded suspiciously like a sob. His hand cupped her cheek for a moment before falling again. She felt so happy that she could fly.

Regina, of course, ruined the moment with common sense.

"Some of us are still waiting for explanations, Rumplestiltskin," the queen said pointedly. "What the hell just happened?"

Belle felt him stiffen in her arms, blinking hard before he put on a lazy smile that she knew was an act. "Why, magic, of course."

"That's not helpful."

"Well, it appears that I am not quite as powerless as one might assume," Rumplestiltskin replied lightly, but Belle knew him well enough to know that there were legions of details he wasn't going into.

"How?" Regina demanded. "You said your curse was broken. Did you lie?"

"I wouldn't be looking like this if I had, dearie." The words came out with something like his old snarkiness, but Belle could feel the tension in him as Rumplestiltskin sat up, still wrapped in the blanket and nothing else. "But three centuries of studying magic does come in useful at times."

"What _was _that?" Tink put in, studying Rumplestiltskin with an intensity that set Belle's teeth on edge. Of course _she _could tell that Rumplestiltskin was skirting the truth with his typical aplomb, but the expression on Tinker Bell's face told her that the fairy was also suspicious.

"Magic. What else?"

"That wasn't normal magic," the fairy persisted, and Belle thought she felt a tremor race through Rumplestiltskin's shoulders.

He sneered, making Belle remember that there were some things she really _hadn't _missed about Rumplestiltskin. "It's always nice to have the opinion of a fairy."

"Rumple," she admonished him, but Tink didn't even blink.

"_What_ was that?" Tinker Belle repeated very slowly, fingering her wand. Rumplestiltskin, however, merely chuckled, but this time Belle _did _feel him shake, ever so slightly.

"Ah. Well, I'm afraid I shall have to put off answering your questions until another day. For now, we need to concentrate on getting out of here, because believe me when I say that none of us want to be around when your distant relatives return."

"The fae have been gone for centuries," Regina objected, but even she didn't sound so certain now.

"Believe it or not as you please, but I assure you that my…hosts were definitely fae," Rumplestiltskin replied, and Belle watched his face tighten and his eyes shut for a moment. She squeezed the hand she still held, moving her other hand to his back to offer support, and Rumplestiltskin smiled sardonically as his eyes opened once more. "And they'll be back before too long. We don't want to be here then."

"You'd prefer to run rather than fight?" Regina said dubiously, and there wasn't a soul in the room who didn't think she was baiting him. "That doesn't sound like the Rumple I know."

He rolled his eyes. "Good try, dear, but in case you never noticed it about me, I'd prefer to _think _my way out of a situation instead of using raw power to solve my problems. That's always been your specialty."

The queen shrugged, unrepentant. "I had to try."

"And are you convinced now that I am who I say I am?"

"I suppose there's no one else who could be as completely _maddening_ as you are," she retorted, and Belle felt him chuckle softly again.

Why did she get the impression that he was laughing because it was expected, and not because he found any genuine humor in their conversation? Rumplestiltskin had always enjoyed his verbal sparring with Regina, but now Belle got the feeling that he was doing so because he felt he _ought _to, rather than because he wanted to. Perhaps because they expected it?

Still, even if he was acting a bit off, Belle knew the infuriating man well enough that he'd get up and prance around naked if she didn't remind him about his current state of undress. Knowing Rumplestiltskin, he'd forgotten that he didn't have any clothes on, but he'd be mortified if he let Regina see him so vulnerable. He'd brush it off with some clever quip, of course, because he was nothing if not a genius at hiding his own feelings behind nasty humor, behind the mask of the monster. But in the end he'd be furious at himself for the oversight.

"Rumple," she whispered into his ear, quietly enough that the others couldn't hear, leaning close to his shoulder and stopping him before he could start to get up. "You haven't got any clothes on."

He turned to look at her, their faces so close that she could kiss him, and Belle could see him wanting to deny the fact that he'd forgotten all about that problem plain as day on his face. But then he smiled tiredly. "What _would _I do without you?"

"Feel a terrible draft," she replied with a grin, unable to bite back her giggles.

A long second passed before Rumplestiltskin chuckled with her, though at least this time his laugh sounded more natural. Belle wasn't sure which one of them moved towards the other first, but after a moment their foreheads were touching, and she closed her eyes, savoring the closeness. Belle felt his tiny smile. "So I would."

Pulling his left hand away from her right, Rumplestiltskin twirled his fingers just so, and the blanket he'd been wrapped in shimmered into red smoke, surrounding them both. As the smoke dissipated, it left him clad in very familiar clothing. The leathers weren't the black Belle remembered seeing him come back from Neverland, however; they were the warm browns she recalled from her time in the Dark Castle, from his leather pants and high boots to the dragonhide coat. The old look contrasted a little oddly with the new human face, but Belle supposed that a three-piece suit wouldn't have fit in very well in the Enchanted Forest, anyway.

Besides, she had missed the old smell of leather and the slight tingle under her fingers when she touched him, the underlying feeling of power and mystery. There was something _intoxicating _about that power and always had been, and even though Belle did her best to encourage him to be a better man, to be the man she'd always seen hidden beneath the darkness, she knew the power was a part of him, too. Tinker Bell had been right, however; even Belle could feel that this wasn't normal magic. There was something…_different _about him. Was it fact that he was finally free of his curse, or was it something else entirely?

She'd ask him later. Privately, where his desire to keep Regina and anyone else guessing couldn't get in the way of honesty. Now, she just smiled. "Much better."

"Indeed it is." Rumplestiltskin rose and Belle stood with him, noticing that he was slightly shaky but hiding it well. Still, the lines around his eyes were deeper than usual, and she could feel the slight tremble when she took his right hand. But he turned to the others with something like his old confidence. "I believe thanks are in order, to all of you. You saved my life."

Regina blinked, but Belle still heard the odd edge in Rumplestiltskin's voice. _Ask later, _she told herself, trying not to worry. Of course he'd be a little off. He'd been tortured for a year. The better question was how he was acting so _normally_.

He wasn't, of course. This was just another mask he could hide behind, but he seemed to know what Belle was thinking, because a squeeze of her hand cut Belle off before she could say anything.

"Are you actually expressing gratitude?" Regina asked, but Belle could hear no ire in her words. Like Belle, the queen was probably trying to fill the awkward silence with something familiar.

"Don't get too used to it," he retorted. Surprisingly, Regina grinned, but she didn't get a chance to respond before Robin spoke up warily:

"Uh. So this is…?" Judging from Robin's face, he clearly knew the answer to his question, uncomfortable though that made him. Still, remembering the circumstances of their last meeting, Belle supposed she couldn't blame the outlaw.

"Rumplestiltskin," her love provided succinctly.

Robin blinked. "About before…"

Rumplestiltskin waved a hand, cutting him off. "Bae told me."

"That's it?" The outlaw stared.

"Would you prefer there to be something more?" he countered, and Belle was gratified to see his eyes actually dancing with real humor. "I can turn you into something small and crawly if you like."

"No!" Robin looked horrified even as Regina snarled:

"Don't you _dare_, Rumplestiltskin."

Belle almost opened her mouth to explain the interesting Regina-Robin relationship, but when Regina stepped protectively close to the outlaw, she saw there was no need. Rumplestiltskin's gaze darted between the two momentarily, and a sly smile crossed his face. "Is that how it is, then?"

"Do you have a problem with that?" Regina demanded.

"Oh, no. No problem at all." His face became the picture of innocence, and Belle shot him a stern look. He was _playing _with people again, and while she was quite certain Regina could handle herself, poor Robin was another matter.

"Be nice," she said.

Rumplestiltskin turned his head to look at her. "I shall be on my best behavior," he promised.

"You'd better," Belle whispered, and felt his hand squeeze hers again. She'd take him however she found him, of course; having thought she lost Rumplestiltskin really did make her inclined to forgive even his most grievous faults, and well, he _hadn't _turned Robin into something nasty, and obviously hadn't even meant the threat. The next words came out before she could stop them. "Can I kiss you here?"

She burned to, of course, and he said his curse was broken. He looked human enough, and his skin felt human under her fingers, but there was obviously something Rumplestiltskin wasn't saying, and she wasn't about to rob him of his power simply because she wanted a _kiss._ Belle had been a foolish girl back when she'd thought kissing him could free him of the darkness that gripped his soul without impacting anything else; she'd never even thought that doing so might make him lose his magic and the chance to find the son he'd lost. Back then, she'd thought True Love could cure anything. Now, Belle understood that all magic _did _come with a price, even that.

"Of course," he replied just as softly, and Belle eagerly complied, her free hand coming up to bury itself in his hair as their lips touched.

* * *

Killian had hopedthe kiss would work, but at heart, he was a practical man. He had a romantic streak a mile wide, yes, but he was also a pirate, and pirates dealt in what _worked_, not what they hoped would do the trick. So, he'd made alternate plans. Had they sent Baelfire, the younger man might have been foolish enough to depend upon True Love's kiss releasing Emma's trapped memories, but Killian Jones was made of sneakier stuff than that. So he befriended young Mr. Mills (fascinated though he was by the fact that he was Henry _Swan _in this world), and waited.

Two weeks into their acquaintance, his patience bore fruit. Apparently this Henry had the same liking for parks that the one in Storybrooke had possessed—Regina had been spot-on with that assessment—and thus Killian found himself sitting with the lad in Central Park while Emma was off at work. She'd done quite well for herself in the last year, and part of him regretted interfering in the life she'd built with her son, but it was all a lie, and the pair of them deserved the truth.

He had always possessed an odd sense of honor for a pirate, Killian supposed. Here he was, doing the _right _thing and working to restore Emma's memories, when a proper rogue would simply try to sweep her off her feet and join her and Henry in their life here. Not that trying to do so didn't have its own temptations—for one, he rather appreciated the way women commonly wore such tight trousers in this world, and Killian particularly appreciated _Emma _in such trousers—but he was here for a reason. Emma had spent a lifetime looking for her family, and her family needed her now. They were all in danger, and if bringing the Savior back couldn't help them win this war, Killian couldn't think of anything else that might.

"Have you ever wondered if there's something not quite right about your life, mate?" Killian asked Henry as the thirteen year old boy absentmindedly threw stale bread at birds.

"Sometimes. Yeah, I guess," Henry replied, scoring another point for Regina. The queen had said that it would be Henry who would know something was wrong, not because she'd given him less complete memories, but because Henry _always _noticed.

"What if I told you're not wrong?"

Henry shot him the kind of doubting look only a child could manage. "You can't tell me that my dreams are real. They're all about _fairy _tales."

"Well, fairies are certainly real, though they don't have tails," Killian replied with a smile, earning himself another dirty look.

"Never mind," Henry snapped. "I don't know why I'm telling you this, anyway. They're only dreams."

"But they aren't." Killian had to speak quickly; he knew he was losing the boy already. Henry was far more open-minded than his mother, but just as stubborn. Henry stood up, ready to leave, and Killian blurted out the next words. "My left hand is fake."

"What?" At least that made the boy turn to look at him.

"Fake. I usually wear a hook, but it's not really fashionable in this world. Not like it is at home, anyway."

Henry stared at him, and oh, yes. That trick always worked on children. They were _always _fascinated by the hook. Not that he'd used it on any children, other than as a conversation gambit, or as a bit of a distraction. He wasn't that type of pirate, thank you very much.

"Tell me, Henry. Do you have dreams of an Evil Queen who cast a curse, sending people from various 'fairy tales' to this world?" He was guessing, based solely on what Henry had said about fairy tales and dreams, but it must have been a good guess, because Henry's eyes went wide.

That, and Regina had said that their real memories might just manifest themselves as dreams, if they were present at all in this new world. Score two for Regina, apparently. The lovely queen would never let him live this one down. _I really do hate it when she's right._ Regina would be insufferable for weeks, but at least enduring her gloating would be worth it. Hopefully.

"How do you know?" Henry asked, sitting down so fast that Killian worried he might break the park bench.

He smiled his best roguish smile. "Because I've lived them, mate."

After that, and some more explanations, it was child's play to convince young Henry to slip the Blue Fairy's potion into a drink for himself and his mother after Emma got off work that day. Killian swore that the potion would do them no harm, of course—it wouldn't; had he or someone else drank it, it would have just tasted like slightly salty water—and Henry decided to trust him after Killian demonstrated that fact by imbibing some of the aforementioned potion. Emma had always been a skeptic, so it had been easy to convince the Blue Fairy to mix up a little extra in case she needed convincing.

Henry promised to slip his mother the potion that evening—some things about the lad never did seem to change, but knowing his maternal grandparents the way Killian now did, he supposed it wasn't such a surprise. So, Killian walked the boy home and settled in across the street of the Swans' apartment building to wait until Henry waved at him from the window. Soon enough he'd restore their memories, and then he'd take them back to where they belonged. Assuming Emma didn't get irrational and dig her heels in, of course. But he could deal with her at her worst; he'd done so before and was almost looking forward to another round.

Hopefully, he'd win Miss Swan's heart in the process. Fighting with her usually did do the trick.

* * *

Had Belle's hand touched the back of his neck a moment earlier, Rumplestiltskin might have pulled away from her entirely. Too many memories of pain started with a hand on the back of his neck, with _her _speaking softly in his ear, speaking words that made no sense even in the context of his befuddled mind. Belle didn't know that, of course, and he couldn't blame her for his own mostly-irrational fears, but her gentle touch still almost made him jerk away. Had her lips not touched his within a second of her hand reaching his neck, he wouldn't have been able to stop himself from flinching away.

But their kiss _did _stop him.

It wasn't just that he needed her desperately, much though he did. It wasn't just that thinking of her had kept him sane when he'd been able to think, and it wasn't just because he loved Belle so much that it hurt. No. It was True Love's kiss.

Power whipped through him like electricity, lighting every sense of magic that he had on fire. Sheer, pure _magic _raced through his system, burning away the darkness that _she _had so carefully imbedded. Rumplestiltskin hadn't even known that the traps were there, hadn't had long enough with these confusing new powers—because despite what he'd said to Regina, he had _no _idea where this came from—to understand that she had dug her claws, her magic, into his very soul. One kiss from Belle was enough to burn that darkness away. It was enough to make him tremble against her, feeling weak and strong all at the same time. And even pushing that realization aside, the power singing through him was extraordinary.

He'd only felt this once, and had cut it short, terrified and lonely and so _certain _it had to be a lie. Certain that no one could love him. Maybe his curse had only strengthened his fears then; maybe it hadn't. But now Rumplestiltskin could close his eyes and relax, could accept the fact that Belle loved him the way he loved her, could hold her and know that this was _real._

"_There's endless possibilities. Countless paths you might take," Belle had said to him back in Storybrooke, back before everything went straight to hell and when they'd thought they might have everything._

_He'd smiled at her, feeling at peace for the first time in his very long life. "But there's only one of those paths I'm interested in."_

"_And which one is that?"_

"_The one where you and I are together." _It was as true then as it was _did _make him stronger. But more than that, she brought him peace.

Maybe he did have a future now. Pan certainly _had _been his undoing—but perhaps that didn't mean his death, much though he'd expected it to. Rumplestiltskin was no longer the Dark One; his curse was broken, and yet he was in possession of a new and frightening magic, one that had ripped into him and healed him when he hadn't the capacity to do it himself (or even the knowledge that he _could _touch magic; until it had suddenly raced through him, Rumplestiltskin had considered himself completely blind in that respect). The fact that he had no idea what or where this new magic would take him was more than a little unsettling, but he did know that wherever his life became, he wanted to share it with her.

Belle sighed softly against his lips, and Rumplestiltskin smiled. She buried her head against his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close. "I missed you so much," Belle whispered.

"And I you," he breathed. Her hair smelled wonderful, and holding her felt like coming home. And perhaps it was.

They stood in silence for several long moments, just clinging to one another, before Regina cleared her throat. Part of Rumplestiltskin was tempted to flat out ignore his old student, but he knew that doing so was foolish at the moment. Letting Regina know how emotionally wrecked he was would only give her an advantage, and although they'd been allies as of late, he had no intention of granting her that type of hold over him. Old habits died hard.

Swallowing back his regret, Rumplestiltskin pulled back from Belle, giving her a small smile as he did so. She returned it, immediately slipping her right hand into his left and squeezing lightly.

She knew him too well, Rumplestiltskin realized, not for the first time. Belle's blue eyes read his soul as easily as they read any one of her many books, but she was refraining from asking right now, for which he was exceedingly grateful. Belle wouldn't let him keep secrets forever, and he _liked _to think that he knew better than to try to keep important matters from her. Of course, he was Rumplestiltskin, and he wasn't particularly good about learning crucial emotional lessons, and when he did, they didn't seem to stick. Still, he had tried to promise them both that he'd listen to her from now on, and he meant to keep that promise.

"Now what?" Belle asked him.

Regina and her outlaw were looking at him expectantly, too. _Back from the supposedly dead for all of a few hours, and somehow I'm in charge, _he thought with a more natural feeling crooked smile. Perhaps if he pretended he was all right long enough, truth might follow the lie. _Fabulous._

"Now we get out of here," he replied decisively, and was glad to see that no one argued. Rumplestiltskin looked at Robin Hood. "How many men do you have with you?"

"Nine," the outlaw replied promptly. "Ten, now, counting you."

A bemused smile snuck onto his face as Rumplestiltskin nodded, realizing that he was missing some crucial information. "And, uh, where exactly are we?"

"You don't know?" Regina asked with surprise.

"This is the first time I've seen anywhere other than that cellar in…how long has it been?"

"A year," Belle answered him softly. "Almost exactly."

_One year._ Rumplestiltskin's mind wanted to fold in on itself, wanted to find a corner to hide in and scream out the pain and the terror. He'd been there a _year_. The thought alone made his heart beat faster, and it could feel it trying to spiral out of control. _Thump. _An entire _year_ had passed. _Thump. Thump._

Oh. That thrumming wasn't just his heart; it was magic, potent and strong, hammering alongside his emotions and threatening to escape his control. Forcing in a deep breath, Rumplestiltskin shoved his worries and fears aside, shoved away the memories of pain and forced himself to focus, clinging to Belle's hand. It was almost like the early days of the curse, when he knew nothing about magic and had to fight to contain his emotions, lest he unconsciously lash out with powers he could not control. Magic was emotion, he'd taught all of his students, having learned those lessons himself the hard way. Slowly, carefully, he let the breath out. He would not go through that again. Not here. Not now.

"I see," he forced himself to say levelly. Forced the magic back into its bottle. And then he made his fingers loosen on Belle's so that he didn't crush her smaller hand with his own. "So, Regina, you were about to tell me where we are."

"Bremen. About two weeks' journey from the Dark Castle. If you push it."

"I see." The name of the town rang a very vague bell, but it wasn't somewhere he'd been before, or at least not recently. Two weeks' of walking was a long time for the fae to catch up with them; that wouldn't do at all. And why had Regina used the Dark Castle as her landmark? There were too many factors that he couldn't classify; obviously a lot of things had happened during the last year, and he had absolutely no idea what was going on.

That was not a feeling he enjoyed.

"We're deep in the Witch's territory," Robin added.

"The Witch? Which witch?" That made him frown.

"The Wicked Witch of the West," Regina explained with a scowl. "From Oz, apparently. Or that's what the rumors say, anyway. Jefferson says he met her there, and the experience wasn't pleasant."

_That _title Rumplestiltskin recognized, at least. But he'd always been better with people than geography, particularly when the individuals in question were magic users worth keeping track of. "What in the world is Zelena doing here?"

"Zelena?" Belle echoed, just as Regina asked:

"You know her?"

"Of course I do."

Regina made an exasperated noise. "Well, we're at war with her. While we were gone, she managed to take over most of the Enchanted Forest. Somehow, she's gained dominion of the ogres and a host of other nasty creatures, and we're fighting to take each kingdom back bit by bit."

"Fascinating."

"Is that all you have to say?" Robin demanded, looking offended. "We're in the middle of a war we're losing. Countless people are dying and you find it _fascinating?_"

_Hero types. _Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes and immediately regretted doing so as his head started to pound. _There's time for that later. Focus!_ With an effort, he managed to make his voice sound dispassionate. "No, I find it fascinating because Zelena doesn't have the power to pull that off on her own. Someone or something else is behind her."

"Is this where you're going to go on about the fae again? Because we really don't have any evidence that they're alive, let alone working with the Witch," Regina cut in impatiently.

"That _was _dark fairy magic," Tinker Bell pointed out. "That usually means the fae."

"No, it means someone using a fae's wand," Regina corrected her. "Why would the fae bother to show up after hiding for centuries, only to work with the Wicked Witch of the West? It doesn't make any sense." She shot Rumplestiltskin a glare. "That's something _he _would know if he wasn't so off his head at the moment."

But there was something he was missing. Something he should _know_, but couldn't begin to put his finger on. His mind was still too muddled, so Rumplestiltskin just waved Regina's protests away with an irritated shake of his head. "I'm not going to argue with you right now, Regina. In fact—"

Without warning, a man burst into the stone hut, disheveled and panicked. He was dressed in forest greens, armed with a sword and bow both, somewhat dirty but not ill-kept. Another outlaw, then. He was graying slightly, long-limbed and built more like an archer than a swordsman, and pulled up short when he saw an unexpected fourth person in the hut.

"What is it, Alan?" Robin asked, jerking the newcomer out of his shock.

"I don't know," Alan replied, staring warily at Rumplestiltskin. "There's something in the sky. Something coming. It's like black clouds covering up the stars and—"

Shoving past him and out the door, Rumplestiltskin never heard the rest of the description. Regina was right on his heels, obviously thinking along the same lines, and they emerged from the hut to see a distant, distinctly magical cloud formation rolling over the forest and heading towards Bremen. Fast.

"A curse?" Regina asked as the others tumbled out of the hut.

He shook his head. "Nothing so complicated as that, I think. You don't need a curse when raw power will suffice." Rumplestiltskin glanced up at the sky, pushed his inner demons aside as he felt power and awareness shimmering through his veins, and knew the answer. "Raw power bent on the destruction of everyone and everything here."

* * *

_**A/N:**__Wow! Thank you for the fantastic reviews for this chapter. I'm glad that readers are enjoying themselves—I certainly am enjoying writing this story. The question leading into the next chapter is: Where do you think Rumplestiltskin's magic came from?_

_Stay tuned for Chapter 6: "Power over Distance", in which Hook finds Emma a second time, the Black Fairy's magic arrives in Bremen, and David and Baelfire continue to wage the war against the Witch._


	7. Chapter 6: Power Over Distance

_**Chapter Six—"Power Over Distance"**_

* * *

"Miss Swan, it's so good to see you ag—"

Emma hit him, of course. Killian had more or less figured that he'd have that coming, and had even tried to brace himself for the blow. But he'd forgotten what a mean right hook Emma Swan possessed, and the punch sent him reeling. His back smacked against the wall across from her apartment's door before he could catch himself, too. Hard.

"Ow," he complained, rubbing his jaw. But he straightened immediately; a man did have his pride, after all. "May I come in?"

"You bastard," Emma swore. "You used my _son _to trick me into drinking your memory juice? I ought to have you arrested!"

Well, that wasn't exactly an auspicious beginning. Killian cringed. "In fairness to me, I somehow doubt that a newly skeptical Emma Swan would believe my tale—evidenced by the way you greeted me two weeks ago—and a wise man uses the tool most suited to the task—"

"Oh, so now my son is a _tool!_" Emma thundered. Henry snickered.

"Should we invite him in before the neighbors start talking, Mom?" the wise young man asked.

"Oh. Right." Some of Emma's obvious anger deflated, and she gestured Killian in. Then she snapped: "I'm still angry at you, though."

He grinned. "You usually are, love."

"Didn't you hear me?" she snapped, planting a hand in the center of his chest and shoving him backwards as she closed the door. "I said 'angry.' Not 'feeling romantically inclined' towards marauding pirates. _Angry_."

"Oh, come now. I only kissed you because I hoped it would restore your memories," Killian tried to argue reasonably. Of course, Emma's eyebrows went up.

"Only?" she challenged him.

"Well, I did _want _to kiss you. Can you blame me?" Seeing his chance, Killian swept in, figuring that the worst another try for a kiss could bring him was a knee to the groin, and he'd suffered far worse in the name of love. It was worth a try.

Thankfully, Emma only shoved him back again, dodging past him and into the living room. "Angry, remember?"

"Pity."

"Can we get to the Enchanted Forest part of this conversation?" Henry interjected, clearly uncomfortable with the way Killian was trying to romance his mother. The boy did have a point, Killian figured, so he took a deep breath and vowed to try again later. Perhaps once he had Henry near Regina. That would distract the lad well enough to give him a chance to properly woo Emma.

"That's probably a _really _good idea, kid," Emma replied, shooting Killian another glare. But he could see that she wasn't really angry; she was just frustrated. "Last time you said something about my family being in danger. Was that just you being all dramatic?"

"Alas, no." Killian sighed. "I'm afraid that I'm going to be the bearer of bad news. Again."

"What happened?" Henry asked before he could go on. "I thought that with the curse broken, everyone going home would mean things went back to the way they were, and…"

"So we hoped," he cut the lad of, sitting down on the couch. "Unfortunately, we were wrong. We returned to a conquered land. A Witch of great power came from another realm, and in the time between when you and your mother were back in the Enchanted Forest and our return, she used creatures of unimaginable evil to conquer every kingdom. The few people who remained behind—and there were more than we thought—have been forced to become her slaves. Your parents, Miss Swan, have of course been leading the fight against her. But it hasn't been easy."

Emma eyed him uneasily. "What aren't you saying?"

"We fear that it's only going to get worse," Killian grimaced. "There was a seer who tried to help us before the Witch had her killed. She foretold that 'original powers are rising' or some such babbling, and that the 'original darkness will seek to cover the land.' I don't recall the exact wording; they've got it written down at home. But we need you. It's not just your family that's in danger. It's _everyone_, love."

"That sounds…pleasant," Emma ground out between gritted teeth. Then she gave Hook a sharp look. "Why'd they send you?"

"Aside from my devilishly handsome looks and irresistible charm? I volunteered."

"Yeah, but why _you_, Hook?" Clearly, Emma wasn't going to let him charm his way out of giving a complete answer, and she pressed onwards. "Why not, you know, one of my parents? I'd be less inclined to punch them."

Killian sighed. "I'm probably not the one to tell you this, Miss Swan"—and wasn't that the understatement of the last year—"but your lady mother is pregnant, and apparently travel by magical portal is inadvisable for women in such a delicate condition. And your father's off leading armies like the prince or king that he is. Baelfire's with him, and we can't exactly spare Regina. She's the only _good _sorceress we've got, strange though that sounds."

Emma might have heard the rest, but judging from the look on her face, she was still stuck on the first part. And the fact that the shocked look on her face was _exactly _mirrored by her son's expression only made it more priceless. Killian would have laughed, were the situation not so very serious. That, and he thought Emma might hit him again, and one bruise on his face was enough for today.

"My mother is…pregnant?" Emma managed to demand after a long moment of silence, just as Henry gaped:

"I'm going to have an aunt or uncle that's thirteen years _younger _than me?"

"Right on both counts, I'm afraid."

_I should have let them send Baelfire, _Killian thought for the first time. Awkward Charming family conversations were better left to others. Even though he got along with Snow and the Prince these days—most of the time—this conversation was growing more uncomfortable by the moment, and he was quite certain that Baelfire deserved such discomfort more than he did. He had fathered the lad, after all. _Or Regina. Regina would have sneered and asked her what else she might have expected, and Emma wouldn't have hit _Regina. Or maybe she would have. Killian distinctly remembered having heard something about the two of them coming to fisticuffs back before the first curse was broken. He was terribly sorry he'd missed that sight; it had probably been completely alluring.

"Okay. Um. Wow," Emma said after a few more minutes in silence. "So. I'm the savior, right? So that's why you need me."

"Well, I do imagine that will help," he answered with a shrug. "Although honestly, no one is quite sure if the whole 'savior' business holds over with the curse broken. Regina says it probably won't, but her motives might be a _tad _suspect."

"Then why come all this way to get us?" Henry demanded.

Killian took a deep breath, and braced himself to be punched again. "Because there are indications that the _Witch_ wants you both. Or possibly just Henry. And we can't let that happen."

At least Emma didn't hit him, though she did wind up swearing to tear the Wicked Witch of the West to shreds if she dared touch one hair on Henry's head. (For the record, the lad did start looking rather unabashedly excited at the thought of combat in the Enchanted Forest, although Killian was careful not to draw Emma's notice to that fact. She was something like a rapid mother bear where protecting her offspring was concerned, and although he found that unaccountably sexy, he was not foolish enough to bait the beast, either.) Thankfully, convincing Emma to return was _much _easier than he'd anticipated, probably because she knew enough about magic to understand that if Hook could make it through, the Witch's followers could, too.

That meant Emma only wanted a day to tie up loose ends, which meant they were still running ahead of the schedule Snow had laid out for their return. Emma said something about paying her rent and quitting her job, not to mention packing a few things that she and Henry really didn't want to lose. She _did _immediately accept that they might very well be gone for forever, too, which was one of the arguments Snow had anticipated he'd have to have with her. Fortunately, Snow didn't seem to know everything there was to know about her daughter. Killian found himself absurdly pleased by that; the others might not have thought he'd manage to bring Emma back _earlier _than their best-case scenario, but he was happy to prove them wrong.

He really hoped she hadn't found love in this world, again. The last thing he and Baelfire needed was a third man with a legitimate claim to Emma and Henry. Matters were already complicated enough as they were.

* * *

Three minutes. By his calculations, that was all they had. Perhaps four, if they were lucky, but probably not that long. Luck didn't seem to be something he had in abundance lately, anyway.

"_That's _just power?" Regina asked dubiously. "Even you couldn't have done that—well, before your curse was broken, anyway."

Rumplestiltskin shot her a nasty grin. "I never said that was _human _power, dearie. You should pay closer attention."

He knew in his bones that it was _her._ Somehow, and he wasn't as surprised by this realization as he wanted to be, she knew that rescuers had come for him. Obviously she had no desire to come out personally and make an issue of it, but when capable of throwing power like that over long distances, why would she need to? Rumplestiltskin could feel the oncoming rush of darkness, could feel the power vibrating down his spine and through the very earth they were standing on. It was an impressive display of magic, made all the more impressive because the lighting flashing in those clouds was not for show. _That _was destruction, pure and simple.

"This is really not the time for you to go on about the fae, Rumple," Regina spat. "I'm starting to wonder if you lost it entirely in there."

_So am I_, he didn't say, still surprised by the quietness in his own mind. The curse really was gone, silent, _broken_; but then where did this power come from? Where did the magic he could feel racing to his very fingertips begin? More importantly, what was the price to be paid for it? There was always a price, and no one knew that better than he. And yet—

A glance at the dark clouds rolling towards him made Rumplestiltskin wonder about the answer to that very same question. What was the price for power such as that? Every bit of magic that had ever been cast had a counter; there was nothing unbreakable, nothing unstoppable. Power though that darkness held, it also was _only _magic. Fae or not, the same rules applied. Much of the cost for fairy magic of any sort was consumed by fairy dust, but not all, and what remained was always the weakness of any spell. The price for magic was always its weakest point.

However, he must have spent a moment too long in contemplative silence, because Regina continued when he said nothing, her voice growing sharper.

"We need to get out of here."

Rumplestiltskin shook his head as Belle and the two outlaws rushed up to them. "There isn't time."

"We can't evacuate the entire town by the time that gets here," Robin pointed out worriedly.

For the first time, Rumplestiltskin bothered to look around himself. The stone hut stood near the center of a small town, one not unlike the place he'd once lived. Worried people were beginning to creep out of their houses, probably drawn by the outlaws' shouts; either that, or the approaching dawn meant the start of a work day for most of them, and they couldn't afford to sleep in. Rumplestiltskin didn't really care about these people—but Belle would, and besides, he'd never been one for the wholesale destruction of towns and their inhabitants. After all, he'd once been one of the 'little' people who lived in such towns, and he remembered far too well what it was like to be trod on by those with greater powers than yourself. Generally speaking, Rumplestiltskin had left the common folk alone, unless one of them was desperate enough and interesting enough to call upon him, and even then he usually extracted far less of a price from them than he did the nobility. Perhaps it was the poor spinner in him shining through even the depths of the curse; once he'd left Hamelin and stopped tormenting his old neighbors, he'd never really started again.

"We have to try," Belle pointed out rather predictably.

"The longer we stand here arguing, the less time we have. Get everyone moving away from the clouds," Regina ordered Robin, her face pale in the moonlight. "I'll see if I can't slow it down."

Well, wasn't that interesting. Regina knew that it might kill her, and yet she'd try anyway. His student really had come a long, long, way. This kind of courage had always been inside her, of course; Rumplestiltskin had just done his dead level best to force her down a different road. He'd succeeded, yet he was still rather satisfied to see Regina turning back to the type of woman she'd been meant to be—and would have been, had he and Cora not messed her up so thoroughly between the pair of them.

"You can't," he told her quietly before Belle could say anything to him, the words coming with surprising ease. Regina twisted to stare at him, but Rumplestiltskin only shrugged. "Get back with the rest of them. You, too, Belle."

"Are you crazy?" the queen snapped. "You want me to run away and wait for that magic to snap you in half? Whatever power you have is no greater than mine now that your curse is broken, and _you've _just lived through a year of hell. I'll take my chances against that, thanks."

Rumplestiltskin chuckled softly. "No need."

He wasn't going to argue with her. There wasn't time. The clouds were closer now, the lightning within them burning bright and deadly as townspeople fled towards the south end of the town, doing their best to get away from the magic as Robin's outlaws tried to impose some small sense of order on the situation. They were a quiet bunch, the people of Bremen. Well cowed? That was not his problem. Tinker Bell was trying to help, but the fairy looked dead on her feet already, and there would be no magic help from her. Not that he wanted it.

Rumplestiltskin had never been the sort to use a staff or anything else to channel his magic, and he'd only ever used a magic wand when he wanted to steal fairy dust or to show off. So now he did nothing of the sort, and if an odd corner of his mind wanted a staff for some reason or another, he pushed that thought aside. Instead, he simply dropped his right knee, felt cold grass meet with leather, and placed his right hand, palm down, on the ground. Letting out a breath, he ignored the way abused bones and muscles protested, and focused on magic.

He usually preferred finesse to raw power, but there wasn't time. So instead he would improvise, and use power of his own to meet this rising darkness, to find its weakness and exploit it. Honestly, he had no idea if this would work. Whatever power he possessed still remained a mystery to Rumplestiltskin, and years of practicing magic cautioned him that he should_ not _test it this way. Yet he had no choice, and he knew that this would work. He just…_knew_. Grass was green, water was wet, and his power could meet _hers _and survive it.

The ground trembled under his palm; less than a second has passed since he put his hand down, and out from his fingers raced power, pure and fast, rushing outwards from his position to the edges of the town. A dozen or so feet outside the perimeter fence, it reared out of the grass and arced upwards to meet the clouds as Regina swore in surprise. Dark red met black, boiling out of the ground like clouds of fire and turning back _her _attack. The two clouds of power danced with one another for several long seconds, vying for supremacy as Rumplestiltskin's arm tingled. He watched the magical mêlée carefully, but not for the light show that held the others so transfixed, waiting until his practiced eye and practiced mind found the weakness—

_There_. Power always dissipated over distance, and this attack had been sent in a hurry. Powerful it was, but not impenetrable. Rumplestiltskin had always found magic much like weaving, and the threads of this power were not woven closely enough to prevent interference. His hand came off the ground, fingers closed, and his wrist twisted just _so_. Within that one movement, his magic attacked the weak points and pulled—and the black clouds suddenly collapsed in on themselves, the lightning sucked into a vacuum with one last magnificent flash, and then there was silence.

Rumplestiltskin stood, power still racing through his veins in a familiar yet terrifying manner. He felt like his fingertips should be glowing even as his body shook in protest. Even with the virtually bottomless well of power he'd been able to control as the Dark One, he had never encountered anything like this.

"What did you _do_?" Regina demanded, and once he looked at her shocked expression did Rumplestiltskin realize that he had destroyed the boiling wave of darkness in less than fifteen seconds.

"Magic," he replied, smiling at her to hide his own unease, smirking to mask the fact that _he didn't know._ Butterflies danced wildly in his stomach, and he just wanted to crawl into a corner and hide.

_What the hell has happened to me?_

* * *

The two armies had fought through the night, trading blows by torchlight, magic light, or oftentimes, no light at all save that of the moon. The Witch's army had found their base camp shortly after Tinker Bell had left and hadn't wasted any time in attacking. The Witch herself had been there in person, too, which was certainly a first; Baelfire didn't think she was much of a general, herself, but given that she had the Buffalo-Leather Soldier to command her armies for her, it didn't make much of a difference. The Soldier was a legend in the Enchanted Forest, long thought dead and gone, but so well known for his generalship that armies trembled at his approach. No one knew where the Witch had found him or how she had convinced him to work for her; rumors claimed that she had brought him back from the dead or from a sleeping curse, but no one knew for certain.

What they _did _know was that the Soldier was a superlative general, even when his armies consisted of flying monkeys, griffins, tanuki, chimeras, and trolls. The human fighters in the Witch's armies were few and far between, but the Soldier still commanded with his old skill, having easily defeated the rag-tag army that Mulan, Aurora, and Philip had gathered before everyone else's return to the Enchanted Forest. He certainly made a mess of _their _forces early on, too; it had taken Charming and Baelfire almost a year to start outsmarting him, and their recent successes were mostly owed to the fact that Mulan had the Soldier distracted in the south, freeing them to take on the Witch's lesser commanders and gain some ground.

Until now.

Had their army a little less confidence in their own leaders, they might have fled outright once they learned that the Soldier was commanding the opposition. However, between them, David and Baelfire had welded their forces into a cohesive fighting unit over the last year, and that camaraderie _held_ against the Soldier. Although it started as a lopsided battle on the wrong end of two-to-one odds, the tide turned a few hours after midnight, and as dawn approached, the Witch's forces were hard pressed to keep up the pace. Where the Witch acquired quite so many creatures to fight for her, Baelfire didn't know—they kept killing them off, and magic couldn't bring back the dead—but she was going to have to be searching for more come the next battle, because by the time light started filling the sky, it became obvious that the Soldier was going to lose.

A lull in the battle gave Baelfire time to ride to David's side; Prince Charming had command of the center while Bae darted here and there, addressing problems and filling holes as they came up. He'd already countered the Soldier's attempt to outflank them using an obscure footpath through the mountains, but now Bae had something more significant on his mind.

David had just pulled back after leading yet another cavalry charge (Bae often wished he could convince their leader to _stop _doing such crazily heroic things, but he supposed that David wouldn't be Prince Charming if he wasn't prone to them), and was covered in enough mud and blood to almost make himself unrecognizable. This kind of out and out warfare wasn't exactly what the Enchanted Forest usually experienced; their heroes were more used to settling matters by single combat or through one well-timed assault than slugging it out in the mud, but here they were, playing the Soldier's game, time and time again. Bae just supposed he had to be grateful that Charming sometimes understood that you couldn't always _command _while you were leading a charge, and had the sense to pull back before he completely lost track of the battle.

Not for the first time, he was grateful that Thomas was still unconscious in their well-guarded camp, because that distinction was one the boy would never make. Oh, he'd be a fine hero under normal circumstances, but this game was just too dirty for him.

"I think we're going to win this one," David panted, pausing to pat his tired horse on the neck.

Bae shot him a dirty look. "You do know what happens to people who say such stupid things, right?"

"I've read a book or two, yeah," the prince only laughed, and Bae sighed.

"I think you're right, though. Conservatively. They should have retreated an hour ago, but I'm guessing that the Witch's presence means even the Soldier can't make a strategic retreat without losing face."

"You've got something on your mind." David knew him too well, and the astute observation made Baelfire grin.

"Well, I'm not much of an archer, and I wish to hell Robin was here for this, but—"

"I'm not in Robin or Snow's league, but give me a target and I'll hit what I aim at," David interjected.

He probably would, too. And there really wasn't time to argue the point, not if this plan was going to work. Thomas would have been a better choice, because the boy was darn talented with a bow, but he wasn't exactly an option at the moment. So Bae just grinned. "How about the Soldier?"

"The—_ooh._ Is he—?"

Baelfire wasn't sure when he and David had started finishing one another's sentences, but now was a good time to have that ability.

"Close enough? Yeah. Right there on their left flank, trying to put some spine into the few humans they have. Shoot him, will you?"

"Will that help? The Witch—wait a minute. Regina said the Witch is like her, and dark magic can't heal, right?"

"Give the man a prize," Bae grinned. He'd thought of that earlier, and would have shot the Soldier himself if a crossbow could make the shot at this range.

David was already reaching for a nearby guard's bow, his face lined with concentration. "Take over here, will you?"

"And watch the center, I know. Go on," Bae shooed the prince off, trying not to let his own hopes show on his face. _This is no normal army. Cut off its head, and it just might collapse._

'_Ding, dong the Soldier's dead' doesn't quite have the same ring to it, but I'll take what we can get._ Most people here hadn't seen that movie, anyway.

Twenty minutes later, as David cantered his horse back towards him, Baelfire ordered the reserves into the center. Moments later, he watched the Witch's army fold in on itself, collapsing under the attack like a waterlogged sand castle. The battle was a rout from there on out, and before long he spotted the Witch herself flying away on her broom, leaving her forces to utter disaster.

Her retreat seemed to break the magic binding some of the creatures to her cause; scores of them fled, vanishing into the mountains, the forest, and the sky. Several hours passed before every pocket of fighting was wiped out, but from the moment David shot the Soldier, the battle had been won. The only worrisome part of the victory turned out to be their inability to find the Soldier's body and the persistent rumors that a tall, red-haired woman clad in black and silver had swept him away into a cloud of rose-colored smoke. Still, Baelfire and David had heard stranger tales from the battlefield before. So, they shrugged those stories away like they did the others, rationalizing that they didn't exactly know what the Soldier's face looked like, anyway, and corpses suffered looting on any battlefield. Someone might just as easily have stolen the buffalo leather boots he was so well known for, leaving them unable to identify the right body.

Either way, they had destroyed two of the Witch's armies in the same number of days, and victory counted for a lot.

"You know what this means, don't you?" David asked as the two men stood side by side, overlooking the now-quiet battlefield.

"Is this where you say that we've finally turned the tide of the war?" Baelfire challenged the prince who had become his friend, crossing his arms and throwing David a cocky smile.

"We have," Charming replied earnestly. "I know it's not a promise of final victory, but between the territory Mulan gained down south and what we managed today, we finally have freed an entire kingdom from the Witch's grasp—_and _we've given ourselves a defensible battle line."

"I can't argue with that, anyway." But he did smile, because David _was _right. Oh, there would be plenty of battles left to fight, but they had actually accomplished something.

Of course, the kingdom that had been freed belonged to Thomas' father, so they'd have to watch the wily old man carefully—and keep Thomas with the army so that dear old dad didn't think about switching sides. Still, that would ease the pressure of refugees at the Dark Castle and especially that in the town in the valley below it, which looked more like Hooverville than anything else these days. And the territory between Thomas' kingdom and the Dark Castle was easily to defend; there were several good positions where they could base armies out of, which meant that the "good guys" could actually hold the territory they'd taken.

"You're a pessimist," David interrupted his thoughts jokingly. Bae snorted.

"Someone has to be with you lot."

"If you think _I'm _bad, you should try fighting a war with Snow at your side. Once she decides you're going to win…well, I'd rather taken on _any _enemy than argue with her," was the laughing response, and even Baelfire had to crack a smile at that one. Even if he did have another question to ask:

"Did Robin say why they needed Tink in Bremen?" Current problems aside, Baelfire's mind was already past their current predicament and wondering where the next snag would occur. Bremen was deep in enemy territory, a straight shot from the Dark Castle towards the Witch's stronghold, and if something was going to go wrong, it was bound to be there. "Traps _do _usually come in pairs…"

"It was Robin who wrote, actually," David replied, some of the cheer on his face vanishing. "Said it was urgent, and not much else."

"It better not be Regina who's hurt." A part of Baelfire couldn't believe those words were coming out of his mouth, but he supposed it was far easier for him to say than it would be for Charming, whose wife had been put under a sleeping curse by the very same Evil Queen who they all now depended upon. But David surprised him yet again, agreeing:

"If it is, and Tink can't save her, we're screwed."

* * *

"So that's it," Emma said skeptically, resisting the urge to glare at the cocky—if handsome—pirate. "We just all put our hands on that…rock, and it takes us to the Enchanted Forest."

She really didn't mean to sound so sarcastic—Henry was already shooting a pleading look her way—but Emma was no one's fool Everything she'd learned about travel between realms indicated that it was _hard _to travel from what she still thought of as the 'real world' and a place with magic. If you could just grab any old rock and use it as a portal, why all the fuss?

"Come now, love. After all we went through in Neverland, you draw the line at a magic rock?" Hook asked her with a winsome smile.

Emma scowled at him. She was _not _the swooning type, and if Hook thought she was going to just fall into his arms because he'd come to bring her and Henry to their family, he had another thing coming. She was the Savior, for crying out loud, and they had a problem to solve. She could untangle her own romantic feelings later. For the moment, she was more content ignoring them.

"No, but I know that traveling from here to the Enchanted Forest is _hard_," she retorted. "Otherwise, it wouldn't have taken an entire _curse _to take all of you back. So why can a little rock do the job for us?"

Hook sighed, and apparently settled for logical explanations now that he knew using his rather-admittedly-lovely puppy dog eyes wouldn't work. "This is the Stone of Giramphiel," the pirate replied. "It's an object of great power on its own, and the Blue Fairy was able to enchant it to _also _be a portal because of the power in the stone. It's hardly _simple_."

"That wasn't in the book," Henry objected, and Emma pushed back a smile. The last year had been different than she'd ever have expected, but she actually felt like Henry's _mother _these days. Her son was infuriating, brilliant, and charming in turn, but he was hers, and she was damn proud of him.

"Not everything from the Enchanted Forest is in your book, lad," Hook pointed out. "Otherwise, your book would have been a great deal larger than it was."

Well, at least that sounded logical.

"So, what does it do, then?" Henry pressed. "When it's not a portal?"

"I'm a bit fuzzy on the details, but apparently it can protect you from dragons and wizards alike," Hook replied. "Neither of which is our problem at the moment, although I've heard that the Witch has a score of dragons or so at her beck and call. Still, it's the portal part that most concerns us, now. Are you ready to leave?"

"Are we ever!" Henry answered before Emma could get a word out, and she spared a moment to shoot her son a cautioning look. Predictably, he ignored her.

_I'm going to _kill_ whoever started this, _she promised herself. _What sane person brings a thirteen year old into a _war_? I may not be parent of the year material, but even I know that!_ Yet Hook was right, much though Emma wanted to deny that fact. She and Henry could try to hide in their world, but the Witch's followers would come after them, anyway. She could gamble on her own skills being adequate to protect her son, but what if she was wrong? What if they tried to hide, and failed, and she couldn't protect him alone? She had no right to ask Hook to stay to protect her son, and she didn't want to ask if he wanted to. Besides, if they chose that road…she and Henry might never see the rest of their family again.

And _that _was a sacrifice Emma wasn't willing to make.

"So…we just touch the rock?" she asked, shrugging a backpack on and watching Henry do the same. They'd given one to Hook, too, and it looked terribly out of place with his long leather coat, but Emma had insisted. She wasn't stupid enough to try to use a gun in the Enchanted Forest—not this time, anyway—but she wasn't going to leave the important bits of her life behind, either. Not if they might never make it back.

Home was where her family was, Emma had long since decided. So she was going _home_, even if that meant abandoning the world she was more comfortable in.

"It's the Stone of Giramphiel, Mom," Henry corrected her. He was all but bouncing with excitement, just as he'd been ever since he'd gotten his memories back. "Not a rock."

"Whatever."

Hook nodded. "Have you noticed that I'm wearing gloves? One touch will send us through—and the stone with us, so we must touch the stone together."

"Right." Emma sucked in a deep breath, turning to Henry. "Ready, kid?"

"Mom." He shot her an exasperated look of the type only a teenager could manage. "I was _born _ready."

"Then let's do this." _So much for a normal life! _

"On your count, love," Hook said, shifting the stone into the fake left hand he wore instead of his trademark hook/weapon, and pulled the glove off of his right hand with his teeth. Tucking the glove under his other arm, he held his hand over the stone, his fingertips hovering barely an inch over the edge. Emma and Henry copied the motion.

"No, I think Henry should do it," she replied, turning to smile at her son while she offered him her spare hand. Beaming, Henry grasped it. "After all, I wouldn't know about any of this if it wasn't for you."

"Okay!" His excitement was almost contagious, but Emma was damn glad that Henry was holding onto her hand as tightly as she was his. Portal travel wasn't fun, and she was damn well not going to lose him on the way to another world. "Three…two…one…

"_Now_," Henry said, and three hands touched down in unison.

Emma felt a distinctive _pull_, and then the world collapsed into a spiral.

* * *

_**A/N:**_ _Thank you to all the wonderful reviewers who dropped me a line after the last chapter, particularly to the anonymous/not-signed in folks who I could not PM to thank personally. Stay tuned for Chapter 7: "Coming Home" in which Emma and Henry reach the Dark Castle and Rumplestiltskin continues to try to figure out what this new magic of his is._

_Now, here's my question to you: Where do you think this magic comes from? Also, did you notice where the Buffalo-Leather Soldier went?_


	8. Chapter 7: Coming Home

_**Chapter Seven—"Coming Home"**_

* * *

The rock—_portal, _Emma reminded herself—spat them out in front of a large castle built of white stone. It was surrounded by high walls with gray-roofed turrets, and though the tops of the walls looked a little run down and worse for the wear, the entire structure was still damn imposing. They'd landed on their feet, which was a better manner of arrival than Emma recalled from her last trip to the Enchanted Forest, but they'd also been deposited outside the walls, which seemed a tad inconvenient.

Henry, of course, didn't think that way. "That's a real castle!" her son gushed, staring wide-eyed at the forty foot high walls. He swung to look at Emma. "Is that Grandma and Grandpa's castle?"

"No," Emma replied, frowning and searching her memory. "I remember that castle, and it didn't look anything like this."

No, the castle she'd been born in had been much more attractive and a hell of a lot less foreboding. Even after the curse had torn through it. She turned to Hook, mentally slapping herself for not demanding more details before touching that damn rock.

"Where the hell are we?" she demanded, and was a little bit gratified to watch the pirate squirm.

"Well, the lad's not too far off. He just chose the wrong grandparent," Hook replied none too helpfully.

"_What?_"

The pirate shrugged, busy slipping the Stone of Giramphiel into a pouch on his belt and pulling his hook out. As he spoke, he unscrewed the fake hand and replaced it with his trademark weapon. "This is the Dark Castle, Miss Swan. It belonged to Rumplestiltskin."

"He had a _castle_?" Henry asked, even as Emma pointed out:

"He's dead."

"Well, Baelfire's the one who suggested we re-appropriate it, as it does belong to him these days," was the easy answer. "And besides, your parents' castle is currently occupied by the Witch. We couldn't exactly share with her now, could we?"

Handsome or no, there were times that Emma wanted to punch Hook right in the face, and this was certainly one of them. "You couldn't have mentioned that _earlier_?" she snarled.

"You didn't ask, love—Hey!"

Emma'd finally had it, and she hit him in the shoulder. Hard.

* * *

"Snow, they're here!" Ruby—who had chosen to keep her Storybrooke name—burst into her rooms with no warning, and the door slammed against the wall with a crash.

"What?" Feeling absurdly clumsy, Snow spun around to face her old friend.

"Emma and Henry. They're _back_." And then Ruby was gone, leaving Snow to negotiate the winding stairs on her own, all the while reminding herself that if she tripped and fell, it would take even longer to see her daughter and her grandson than if she just took her time. Still, it seemed to take forever to reach the great hall—

And then she arrived, and there they were. Emma was dressed in jeans and that same old red leather jacket, her blonde hair loose and falling everywhere. Henry seemed immensely taller than he had before, but was talking to Jiminy Cricket with the same delighted animation, his face all smiles and his eyes dancing. Hook stood close by, looking insufferably pleased with himself—but Snow barely noticed him as she came through the doorway, feeling like she was trying to walk underwater.

"Emma." She whispered the word, but her daughter somehow heard it anyway—and suddenly there Emma was, in her arms. Henry followed only a moment later, and Snow suddenly felt _whole _again.

Oh, she wished David was here and not with the army. She knew he'd never forgive himself for missing this moment, and the only thing keeping it from being utterly _perfect _was his absence. Still, Snow's smile was so huge that it hurt her face. She'd just have to speak for the both of them.

"We've missed you so much," she breathed into Emma's hair. "Both of you. It's so _good _to see you again."

"We missed you, too, Grandma," Henry piped up immediately, smiling cheekily as he pulled back. "When we remembered, anyway."

Despite herself, Snow laughed. "I bet you did. And look at you! You've grown so much."

"I _am_ thirteen now," her grandson pointed out.

"And never tires of reminding me of that," Emma put in, wearing a long-suffering look. Snow, however, only pulled her close for one more hug.

"You look _wonderful_," she said feelingly.

"Thanks." Emma's smile was tiny, but it was real, and her daughter was back. But Emma looked around, her quizzical eyes sweeping over the Great Hall. "Where's everyone else?"

Hook looked like he wanted to say something, but Snow got in first:

"Your father and Baelfire—I mean Neal—are off with the army. I assume Hook told you what's been going on?"

"Yeah, he might have said something about a Witch, a war, and really bad stuff happening," Emma replied succinctly.

"That's putting it mildly," Snow breathed. For some reason, Tinker Bell's warning about the Blue Fairy suddenly started ringing in her ears; hadn't it been Blue who insisted that the Witch wanted Henry, and it was safest to bring them back quickly? _Stop that. You're being paranoid. Blue has never done anything other than help us._

_Except for the one crucial_ lie_ that made Emma grow up without either one of her parents._

Emma's next words jerked Snow out of her reverie. "So, um, Hook also might have mentioned that I'm going to have a sibling? Though he didn't say that you looked ready to pop."

"I've got a month yet," Snow laughed, grateful, as always, for her daughter's blunt attitude. "But yes. You're going to be a big sister."

"A _really _big sister. I'm thirty!" Emma objected.

"The better for changing diapers, my dear."

"What? No! I've done—or at least I _remember _doing that enough with Henry, thanks." Emma's shocked expression only grew more comical as she tried to straighten out her own memories with the ones she'd been given, but Snow resisted the urge to laugh at her. Instead, she squeezed her daughter's arm.

"Well, maybe you can teach me a thing or two, then," she smiled.

Emma actually blushed. However, Henry was looking around hopefully, and Snow's heart constricted as she realized who he had to be searching for.

"Regina's not—" Snow started to say gently, only to be cut off.

"Not interrupting your touching family reunion, am I?" Regina strode into the room like she always did, confident and poised, as if she owned anywhere she went. Snow had envied that grace as a little girl, and hated it as Mary Margaret, but now that she'd finally repaired her relationship with her stepmother, she just viewed it as one of Regina's many strengths.

"Mom!" Henry flew into Regina's arms, and Snow felt a warm smile creeping onto her own face. She couldn't exactly pinpoint when Regina and Emma had both become Henry's mothers, but odd though the family dynamic was, it worked. And it was what Henry wanted, so that was what counted the most. Still, she couldn't contain her own surprise at _seeing _Regina. After all, she'd heard from Robin just the evening before, and the outlaw had definitely been in Bremen with Regina at the time.

"Welcome back, Regina," Snow said as Robin and Tinker Bell trailed into the room behind her, with the rests of the merry men trickling in one by one behind them. "You're early. We didn't expect you back for at least two weeks."

Regina looked up from her tight embrace with Henry. "Yes, well, nothing went according to plan." The queen grimaced moodily. "And I had a bit of…_help_ in bringing us back."

"If this is what you call 'a bit of help,' dearie, I hate to think of what you'd think of as a truly desperate situation," a familiar voice put in, and Snow wheeled to face the doorway. Her mouth dropped open.

"_Rumplestiltskin_?"

"It's always nice to be remembered," the man in question quipped, walking casually into the room with Belle by his side.

A moment passed before Snow's brain could catch up with her eyes and tell her what was wrong, but he looked like…_Gold. _The gray-gold shimmering skin was nowhere to be seen, and his features were entirely human, if thinner than she remembered. But the knowing smile was one she knew entirely too well, both in Storybrooke and in the Enchanted Forest.

"Hold on a minute, here," Emma interjected, turning to look at Snow in confusion. "Isn't he supposed to be _dead_?"

"Yes, actually. This is…rather unexpected. And kind of, um, worrisome." Glancing Regina's way, Snow tried to ask the question without actually asking it, but her stepmother only rolled her eyes.

"Oh, trust me, it's him. No one else could be as perfectly _infuriating_ as he's managed to be in the last few hours," Regina replied. Rumplestiltskin, on the other hand, only chuckled quietly, but Snow still gave him a hard look.

"We watched you _die_," she pointed out. "We all did."

"Are you so sure about that?" he countered, and Snow had to agree with Regina. He was every bit as cryptic and cagey as she remembered.

"Yes," Snow snapped, quickly running out of patience—particularly with Charming Junior choosing that moment to practice the backstroke. Emma had been a troublesome child to carry, but this little one was trying to give his or her big sister a run for her money.

Rumplestiltskin—or was he Gold?—held up one finger with a familiar flourish. "Strictly speaking, you watched me _disappear_, not die. Now, as I did intend to kill myself along with Pan, you can be forgiven for thinking I did, but the important part is that we were all incorrect in that assumption." He smiled, then, very faintly. "I'll spare you the long and complicated explanation. The short version is that although I didn't die, my curse _did _break, and I wound up back here as the guest of some truly unpleasant individuals. In Bremen, coincidentally enough."

"The 'object' the Witch's forces were guarding was him," Belle put in as Snow tried to wrap her mind around the explanation. Belle was grinning when she said it; Snow hadn't seen her look this _alive _since before they left Storybrooke.

Of course she looked better. Snow could only imagine how heartbroken _she _would have been if she'd lost Charming, or even thought she had. Frankly, Snow had always been surprised that Belle was managing to function so well. In Belle's position, she would have just wanted to curl up and wallow in her grief, but the other woman never had. She'd pushed onwards, kept fighting, and refused to give in. Snow had always liked her—even if she never had understood how such a _good _person could fall for Rumplestiltskin—but in the last year, Belle had been truly impressive.

"So, you've been alive this whole time?" Snow asked dubiously. Her eyes narrowed. If there was one thing she'd learned about Rumplestiltskin, it was that he didn't do _anything _without an ulterior motive. Had spent an entire _year _waiting for the 'right' moment to reappear? If so, how in the world could he be so cruel to a woman who so plainly loved him?

Surprisingly, Rumplestiltskin grimaced. "Indeed I have."

"And that's it?" she couldn't stop herself from asking.

"Oh, I'm sure someone will share the gruesome details with you, dearie, but I see no reason for that to be me." His face closed off as he spoke, and Belle looked his way worriedly, but Rumplestiltskin only smiled Gold's nastiest smile. "Excuse me."

He vanished, leaving Belle to sigh and then—surprisingly—exchange a loaded glance with Regina, of all people. However, since the best way to get information about Rumplestiltskin was often to ask someone else, Snow looked to Belle. She was almost as confused as Emma's expression said her daughter was, but first things first.

"So. Rumplestiltskin _isn't _the Dark One any longer?" Snow asked slowly. Regina answered first:

"He says his curse is broken."

Belle gave the queen a hard look. "He wouldn't lie about that."

"I'm not sure I'd put lying about _anything _past Gold," Emma put in, and Snow very much wanted to agree with her daughter. Regina, however, shook her head.

"I don't think he's lying," she said decisively. "Oh, he isn't telling the whole truth, either—and that should surprise no one in this room—but I don't think he _expected _to have magic. He does, though."

Regina exchanged another look with Belle, and there was so obviously something neither woman was saying. However, neither of them volunteered the information, either, and Snow had a feeling that pressing that point would get her nowhere. So, she took a deep breath and banished her worries on that front. She and Regina were still learning to trust one another, but if Snow didn't try to respect her stepmother's desire to keep her own counsel, they'd never manage. Henry's eyes had been darting between his adopted mother, grandmother, and Belle during the conversation, and when Regina didn't offer further explanation, he asked:

"That's a good thing, right? It means he isn't evil."

Regina was silent, leaving Snow to look at Belle. "I…I'm not sure. Does it?"

"I think it means he's still Rumplestiltskin," Belle explained with a genuine smile. "He hasn't been purely evil in a long time. No more than Regina has."

"Then what does this change, if anything?" Emma demanded. "And if he's been alive this whole time, why the hell is he only popping up now? I mean, no offense, but that's pretty horrible. Especially to you."

The last bit was directed at Belle, but Tinker Bell spoke up. "His magic isn't normal," the fairy said bluntly, and for the first time, Snow noticed how worn down Tink looked. "It's not like it was before, and it's not like Regina's, either. Frankly, it's not like anything I've ever even _heard _of before."

"Tink's right," Regina admitted after a moment's hesitation. "But I can't say I'm surprised. Rumplestiltskin…he's always known more than he lets on."

Tinker Bell still didn't look happy, but Regina caught her eye and shook her head before the fairy could say more. Then the sorceress continued:

"And the rest of it isn't what you think," she told Snow and Emma, shooting a loaded glance Henry's way as she spoke. "Where we found him…well, let's just say he wasn't going anywhere. Whoever held him made sure of that."

* * *

The press of people in _his _castle was just too much. Oh, Belle had told him that she and Baelfire had volunteered the Dark Castle as a base of operations, and from an intellectual perspective, he had no problem with that. Using the Dark Castle made sense, and he'd been thought _dead_, anyway. Rumplestiltskin's frequent need to get away from people wasn't something either Belle or his son needed to consider while making that decision, and even now, they weren't wrong. He just craved quiet, wanted peace, needed time to figure out what in the world was going on.

Power swirled around him, deep and merciless, sharp to taste and utterly intoxicating. Every movement made magic crackle through his veins, through every bone and every muscle. It made everything easy_, _simple, _effortless_. Magic had been different in Storybrooke, and there Rumplestiltskin had always been careful not to tip his hand, not to show how easily he could manipulate magic powers other than dark magic, and also to hide how the difference could handicap him as easily as it could Regina or any other. This, however, was nothing like that. This power wasn't even like anything he'd experienced in the Enchanted Forest before the curse, not the well of darkness from which his curse drew power or the other types of magic he had meticulously taught himself over the centuries. No, this was different. Magic came as easily as breathing, travelled from his mind to his fingertips without so much as a heartbeat coming in between. He could feel the power with every breath he took, could sense it gathering, waiting, watching and _ready_.

And it was absolutely terrifying.

He had to get away, needed to not be around people, even his own sometime allies. He should have said something to Henry—the boy was his grandson, and had been watching him with wide eyes—but Rumplestiltskin's ability to act civilly had vanished with Snow White's probing questions. His hands wanted desperately to shake, and he _still _wanted to curl up in a corner and wait for the storm of nightmares to pass. How many hours had it been since the pain had abruptly stopped? Not enough. He'd dreaded one of them asking why he was so thin, or Regina pointing out that the first bit of conscious and coherent magic he'd preformed after _his _magic had healed him wasn't just to clothe himself. He'd also immediately thrown up a bit of a glamour to hide his frailty and the shadows he knew filled his face. Rumplestiltskin didn't _want _to explain what he'd gone through, not to these people who he cared very little for, and certainly not when he wasn't at all certain that he could do so without going to pieces.

So he'd taken himself to his old bedroom, the one place he could be certain that no one in the castle would venture. No one in their right mind wanted to come after the beast in his own den, after all. Even with his curse broken, they'd undoubtedly see him as a monster; he wasn't sure he wasn't one, so why not use that image? His bedchamber looked recently lived in, but those were Belle's hairs he recognized in a carelessly thrown aside hairbrush. Rumplestiltskin wasn't actually certain that he could face _Belle _at the moment, but he definitely knew he wasn't up to dealing with anyone else. Not until he got control of whatever this was.

Dropping his dragonskin coat onto the floor without so much as a thought, Rumplestiltskin half-walked, half-stumbled his way over to the bed. Collapsing into a sitting position, he dropped his aching head into pale and very human hands. Very _shaking _hands.

Letting out a breath, he dropped the glamour, and little though he wanted to, knocked aside the blocks he'd put up in his mind to protect himself from the memories. When he'd thrown those barriers up, he'd known that doing so was unhealthy, but Rumplestiltskin hadn't been comfortable with showing weaknesses in front of others for longer than he could remember. They'd already seen too much. He hadn't been able to stop Regina, Robin, and Belle from seeing the extent of his injuries, but that was _all _he planned to allow his old pupil and her outlaw to see. Long an expert in only allowing people to see what he wanted them to, Rumplestiltskin—

The last block vanished, and images swept through his mind too quickly to catalog. Pain. Fear. A hand touching the back of his neck and then _power_ surging, magic not of his own, tearing and crushing and trying to bury all that he'd ever been. Good, bad, ugly, or evil, _she _had tried to erase everything that made him Rumplestiltskin, but why? He didn't even know who that female fae had been, knew nothing about her save for the fact that she terrified him and possessed a power unmatched by anything he had ever encountered before. Her orders had been the ones that brought him pain, Rumplestiltskin knew. Whatever game the other fae were playing was hers, and he'd been…_what _in it?

Not quite a pawn. Something else entirely.

"_Embrace the darkness," she whispered in his ear as Rumplestiltskin sobbed in pain, his body convulsing. His forehead rested weakly against the stone wall, and he was too drained to even try to escape the hand stroking the back of his head. _

_Had that been all she asked, he would probably have done it. A distant corner of his mind recognized _his _dagger nearby, could feel the oppressive darkness emulating from it, was aware of the curse, his curse, straining for release. Looking for a home. It wanted him, and _she _wanted to give it back._

"_Let go of your conscious self." Her fingers played in his hair, making him flinch. His heart, already beating erratically, stuttered slightly, and he wanted her to stop touching him even more than he wanted the torture to stop. "Become your rage, your pain, and your fury. I will give you the means with which to wreak revenge upon the world."_

_Vengeance. The terrified spinner inside him had once yearned for it, for power over those who had hurt him. They had reviled him, spat on him, called him coward and endangered his son—_

Baelfire. _His son._

_He'd promised to be a better man. Not perfect, but _better. _Capable of darkness, but not this—_Pain. _White hot agony laced through his body; she must have felt his resistance gathering, must have seen the tension in his shoulders that told him he wanted something other than just to let go, to become putty in her hands. Her hand tightened painfully on the back of his head, and Rumplestiltskin whimpered into the gag._

"_This will _not _stop until you are mine," she hissed furiously. "Embrace what you are, or suffer for eternity._

"_Do not look for death, Rumplestiltskin, for it cannot save you from me."_

Gasping, Rumplestiltskin tore himself free of the memory, doubled over and panting for air. She'd wanted to reset the curse, to force it back into him. She held the dagger—and still did; it had been nowhere in that hut when Belle and the others found him—and obviously wanted control of the Dark One. But she hadn't wanted him for the same reasons others would. Her power dwarfed that of the curse. So why?

Looking at the situation logically did nothing to stop his trembling, did nothing to banish the feeling that more pain was to come. He'd lived that nightmare for the last year, and even though Rumplestiltskin _knew _that this was reality and not a dream, he couldn't escape the way his entire body tensed, bracing itself for torture his psyche knew would come. He'd never thought of himself as anything other than a coward, and if she had asked for anything else, he probably would have crumbled to pieces and given in within weeks. Perhaps he would have lasted months, at the outside; he _was _stubborn, after all. But she had demanded the one thing that he had never given up: his sense of self. The curse had stained and shredded his soul beyond repair centuries ago, but he'd reclaimed a tiny bit of himself along the way. Somehow, despite being the Dark One, he'd _also _been Rumplestiltskin, and he was loath to give that up.

Add that to the fact that for the first time in forever, he actually had someone, two someones, to fight for, and Rumplestiltskin resisted. If she had only wanted him to embrace the darkness and to let the curse back in, the pain could have made him do so. Easily. He'd lived with the curse for so long that living without it was far more terrifying than living _with _it, darkness and all. Even though he was _now _grateful that he was in complete ownership of his battered soul, it would have seemed a small price to pay in order to make the pain stop. But she'd wanted the one thing he could not, would not, give.

She'd been well on her way to getting it, anyway, though. Even as he struggled to regulate his rapid breathing, Rumplestiltskin knew that was true. His mind had fragmented under the continuous pressure, and _nothing made sense_. There were memories there that didn't belong to him, images that he _knew _came through another man's eyes, one long dead and gone. Someone powerful and yet defeated. _Old friend_, she had said, as if she was talking to someone other than Rumplestiltskin. Or was he just going mad?

When had tears started streaking down his face? Memories reared up again, and he started shaking harder and harder. Arms snaking around his torso, he finally gave in to the urge to curl up on the bed. Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes as his cheek landed on the silky red and gold coverlet, hugging himself tightly and still trying not to hyperventilate. He remembered too much: battles and friendship, betrayal and pain, darkness and magic and _too _much pain. He remembered giving in where he hadn't, remembered what happened when the torture dragged on for years and years and eternity until he forgot his own name—

_Rumplestiltskin._ His name was Rumplestiltskin, and these memories were not his. Why, then, did they make him sob his soul out, rocking back and forth on the bed and curling up as tightly as his thin body would allow?

Yet even when he managed to swallow back the memories he _knew _(hoped?) weren't his, images he knew were born of his own experiences rose to replace them. He remembered the pain and blood everywhere, feeling and screaming like he would be ripped in half. He remembered the first time the hot irons touched down on his eyes, wailing in agony and unable to breathe because it hurt so badly. He remembered her hand in his hair and darkness lashing into him, her voice as she whispered in an almost friendly manner while he wanted to die. He'd been so alone and there'd been _no one _coming, because even if he hadn't made more enemies than friends in his long life, everyone that mattered thought he was dead, and maybe they were just better off that way.

The material under his face was soaking wet and heavy, now, but he hardly noticed. His mind just wanted to fold under, and he couldn't _fight _anymore. So he finally let go of the last shreds of his dignity and self-control (both painstakingly reassembled for the benefit of those had been watching) and just let himself break down.

* * *

_**A/N:**_ _I apologize to everyone for the long wait for this chapter – crazy times at work and horrible weather absolutely sucked away my creativity! However, I do hope that this chapter doesn't disappoint. Stay tuned for Chapter 8: "Choices and Consequences" in which Rumplestiltskin starts figuring out the price of his new magic, Regina and Henry finally reunite, Bae proves sneaky, and Henry kicks off "Operation Jellyfish."_

_In the meantime, please review to let me know what you think! _


	9. Chapter 8: Choices and Consequences

_**Chapter Eight—"Choices and Consequences"**_

* * *

"Rumple?"

Belle found him long after he'd run the gamut of out-of-control emotions, still curled up on the bed, boots and all. Rumplestiltskin was still shaking a little, though, and had been too lost in his confusing swirl of memories to even hear her come in, let alone notice her approach. Sitting down next to him on the bed, so close that her leg was almost touching his back, she laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, and he jumped, his eyes flying open.

"Sorry," Belle whispered, and he just nodded away her apology, unable to find words. His head was pounding, and even though his magic had healed him—in a wild and uncontrolled way that hadn't banished most of the aches and pains—his limbs felt leaden. Her hand remained on his shoulder, though, and Rumplestiltskin was ashamed to realize how comforting he found Belle's touch. "You don't have to be okay, you know."

"I…" He wasn't sure what he was going to say, other than that it would have been an argument of some sort. But maybe not a coherent one.

"Come here," Belle said softly when he trailed off.

Still shaking, Rumplestiltskin sat up, half turning to face her and resisting the urge to hide the fact that he looked like hell behind another glamour. But Belle opened her arms and he gladly retreated into them, allowing her to pull him close. He still hated himself for the weakness, but couldn't stop from shuddering in relief while Belle held him tight. He had no idea how long passed while she held him in her arms, only that his breathing and shaking finally calmed, the horrible feelings of terror and loneliness easing for the first time in a year. Being busy had allowed Rumplestiltskin to push them aside earlier, but ignoring his demons had only made them stronger.

"I'm all right," he finally managed to say, his voice thick and scratchy. But Rumplestiltskin made no move to pull away, either.

"You don't have to be," Belle repeated.

He tried a laugh, but it came out a broken and harsh noise. "Of course I do. I'm _Rumplestiltskin_."

Was that bitterness in his voice? It was a sad day when he couldn't sort out his own feelings, let alone control them. But he was who he was, and even without being the Dark One, that meant something. It had to. Particularly with this new and overwhelming power, with magic that leapt lightly to mind the moment he even contemplated needing it. He had _almost_ wanted to be powerless. The coward in him had just wanted a quiet life somewhere like he'd tried to have so many lifetimes earlier, had hoped for a split second that perhaps he could walk away from all of this, once and for all, be free of the very first deal he'd made, when he bargained for magic he could not understand. The coward in him wanted to hide.

But that was not to be, and most of him was glad for it. In his heart, Rumplestiltskin knew that he was no longer made for a quiet life. He'd be nothing without power, and being _nothing _did not suit him well. He had manipulated worlds with a flick of his fingers, had played generations like musical instruments or puppets on their strings. The poor spinner might still exist inside him, but that was no longer all he was…just as he was no longer the Dark One. Somewhere in there, _Rumplestiltskin _had become more than the sum of his past and his curse, and that was what remained even when he was free of the darkness. That, and extraordinary power that came from he knew not where.

_All magic comes with a price_.

The realization startled Rumplestiltskin out of Belle's arms, sitting bolt upright and holding his breath until he reminded himself to breathe once more. Turning his mind to magic, he truly studied his new power for the first time, watching the overlays the way only a sorcerer could in his own power. Colors danced everywhere in his mind's eye, woven together like fine silk, breathless and vast. Once, his power had been predominately dark, just as all of his magic that came from the curse was bound to be. The small fragments of color and light that existed in his _old _power had come from Rumplestiltskin's refusal to be limited; he had determinedly learned other magics, and learned them well, but at his core, he had still been a creature of darkness. No matter if he had been the first Dark One to manage to use anything _save _the darkness; he'd still been trapped by it, and had always known that.

Now, however… Now there was darkness, too, amidst the light, but more in equal measure. There was a balance of sorts, a beautiful array of options that offered him the opportunity to be whatever and whoever he chose. And this magic came without the heavy price of sheer evil attached. To someone less experienced with managing the cost of magic than Rumplestiltskin—doing so had been how he'd preserved a small corner of his soul as the Dark One—that sudden freedom might have made it seem like this magic came _without _a price, but he knew better. The only question was what the price actually _was_.

"Rumple?" Belle shook his shoulder gently, making him realize that it was not the first time she'd tried to get his attention. Shaking his head to clear it, he looked at her worried face, and tried to smile without much success. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing—or nothing in particular, anyway," he allowed. "I'm just…trying to figure this magic of mine out."

"You're trying to focus on anything other than your own emotions, you mean."

"I'm not—" he sighed. "Well, maybe."

"You were tortured for a year," Belle pointed out in her ever-logical, gentle way. "I'd be more worried if you were fine with that. You're—"

"Still a monster," he cut her off automatically.

Belle glared at him, her hand still on his shoulder. "Still _human_. You're not a monster."

But oh, he almost _wanted _that to be true. Being a monster was simple, even when he was trying not to be one for her sake, for Bae's. That was a battle he understood, even if it was one he often lost. It was familiar, and a part of him yearned for that. Because Rumplestiltskin was pretty sure he'd figured out the price for this new magic of his, and he wasn't certain that he wanted to pay it.

"I could still be," he told her. "So easily."

"Do you want to?" she asked quietly, her blue eyes meeting his without judging him. For the thousandth time, Rumplestiltskin realized how lucky he had been to find her, how a capriciously wrought deal had brought him True Love with a woman who actually did understand his many layers, yet never stopped pushing him to be better.

"I don't know," Rumplestiltskin answered honestly.

* * *

"Are you mad at me for using magic the way I am, Henry?" Regina asked her son quietly.

The first day after Henry's return had been an absolute whirlwind of reunions, and she hadn't gotten much time to spend with Henry alone. Navigating the complex mess of their odd family was always a chore, and much though Regina appreciated the fact that she really did _belong _for the first time her in life, she didn't want to let Snow and the others monopolize her son's time. Emma was different; at least she understood what it was like to share their son, and they'd come to a sort of unspoken agreement even before Henry had been kidnapped and taken to Neverland. But the others kept trying to smother Henry with affection, leaving Regina to be only one of a group around him instead of having time they could spend alone. Even her blooming relationship with Robin (and with Roland, who could not remember his mother and clung to Regina as if she already _was _his mother) didn't erase the ache in her heart that missing Henry created, so when Henry came to her the second morning, Regina was more than happy to find a quiet corner to talk to him in.

Her little boy smiled. He'd grown so _big _in the year she'd missed and was almost a man now. Looking at him made her eyes to mist over and her throat grow tight.

"Of course not," Henry replied immediately. "I mean, you're doing it for the right reasons, right?"

"I'm trying," Regina admitted. "Sometimes it's hard."

Over the last year, she'd often thought of how Henry hadn't wanted her to use magic back in Storybrooke, how he'd pushed her to find other ways to live. Of course, Henry hadn't said anything after their return from Neverland, but there hadn't been much time where it wasn't actually _Pan _in Henry's body, and Regina had wondered if her son might still feel that she was better off without magic. After all, it was magic in the form of Pan's curse and then hers that tore them apart once more, and it was magic that had allowed Pan to trick her. Would Henry be disappointed in what she had become? Regina feared he would, because she didn't know what she'd _be _in the Enchanted Forest without magic…and the others needed her.

Before Rumplestiltskin had returned—and then, quite predictably, vanished as thoroughly as if he wasn't in the same castle as everyone else—Regina had been the _only _magic user fighting against the Witch if one didn't count the fairies. They _needed _her. Much though she hated to admit it, that need was one of the most addicting drugs she'd ever encountered, worse than even dark magic. For the first time in her entire life, Regina actually felt like she was making a difference, like others were depending upon her, and she liked that feeling.

"Grandma Snow says that you're the reason they haven't lost the war already," Henry said next, and Regina felt a genuine if wry smile warm her face.

"Does she now?"

_Leave it to Snow to say something so damn heartfelt to my son, and of course, she _means _it. _Snow's way of wearing her heart on her sleeve, of being so free with her forgiveness and affections, still left Regina feeling uneasy, but at least thinking of her stepdaughter no longer caused the burning need for vengeance it once had.

"Yeah. Mom asked her if she'd gone crazy, but that's just Emma. And Grandma Snow just said that things are different now."

"Oh, they certainly are." Regina moved over to sit next to Henry, wrapping an arm around him. "I missed you, Henry."

"I missed you, too, Mom."

* * *

The next few days passed quietly. Rumplestiltskin avoided the others like the plague, staying in his room or his tower and trying to sleep off the aches, pains, and doubts. He accomplished the first two, more or less, but had little success with the third. By the time the fifth morning rolled around, however, he at least had a better grip on his own mind, having mostly separated out which memories were his and which were not. A few well-placed mental blocks (not unlike the ones he'd used to contain his curse-created memories back in Storybrooke) kept the not-memories from intruding when he didn't want them to, allowing him to achieve a sort of equilibrium that actually let him _feel _sane, not just act like it.

The quietness in his mind also took some getting used to. Nearly three hundred years had passed while he listened to his curse whisper in his mind, urging him towards violence and darkness and rage. Rumplestiltskin had learned to placate the monster within himself to a certain degree: he made deals to manage the price of magic, manipulated rather than killed when it would serve his larger purpose, and generally channeled his darkness where _he _wanted it to go rather than where _it _preferred. He'd lived with it for so long that his inner imp was almost an old friend, and finding out that his mind his own was rather…startling.

However, it helped that the curse had been broken before the fae held him, that even when his mind had cartwheeled off the deep end and his memories made no sense, his terrors were all his own. It also helped that he'd almost alwayshad nightmares. Once he'd learned to use those same mental blocks as the Dark One, he'd shoved aside the memories of his predecessors, save for when they proved useful, but those blocks no more worked in his sleep then than they did now. Plenty of his old nightmares had been driven by things Rumplestiltskin had done, but the majority of them had actually been scenes out of horrors _other _Dark Ones had visited upon people in the centuries before Rumplestiltskin took the dagger. Or horrors visited upon _them _when someone else had the dagger.

Now, of course, his nightmares were almost solely his own, either from his confused memories or just from the torture he'd endured. He'd been tempted, more than once, to mix himself up a potion to provide himself with dreamless sleep, but the same stubbornness that kept him from asking for help kept him from indulging. Dreams were the subconscious' way of expressing itself, and what little soul he still had left was quite battered enough without his damaging it willy-nilly with potions. Instead, he chose to endure the nightmares and was simply thankful that Belle was there to see him through them.

Thankfully, she was as stubborn as he was, and every time he managed to say something stupid and try to drive her away—for her own safety or sanity, more often than not—she shot him down. Rumplestiltskin always regretted such words almost as soon as he said them, but he didn't exactly have a habit of making the right choices.

"Are you going to show your face today?" Belle asked him that morning, her voice neutral.

Dawn had found him unable to sleep and Rumplestiltskin had gone to his tower to spin instead. Belle had finally drifted off after his last bout of nightmares, and she got little enough sleep while trying to deal with his demons. Unwilling to share his own insomnia with her, he'd slipped away while she slept peacefully, drawing on his new magic to dress and send himself to the workroom in his tower.

The transition came dizzily fast, but he was at least gratified to find that his oldest spinning wheel had returned home. This was the same wheel that had been in his basement in Storybrooke; the larger and nicer one that had been in his shop's backroom must have gone back to the castle's great hall. This wheel, however, had been the one he'd inherited from the spinsters who raised him, the one that a poor spinner had used to earn a living for his wife and child. Rumplestiltskin had spent many of his darker and more self-loathing moments wondering why he'd kept it at all, but right now he was very glad that he had. Watching the wheel let him blank his mind out, let him concentrate on the simple repetitive motions of his hands and one foot on the pedal, and just for a little while, it let him forget.

Belle had, of course, found him some hours after he'd realized that he was still spinning gold, and now he turned slightly to answer her question.

"Does that mean you want me to stop playing the monster in the tower?" he asked lightly.

Belle scowled. Glared. "You're not a monster."

"It was a quip, sweetheart." Rumplestiltskin gave her a small smile, which only earned him an exasperated look. No, his fiery beauty probably never would like him joking about that, particularly now. Still, when he stopped spinning to clear space for her to sit next to him at the wheel, Belle relented and smiled back before she joined him.

"You're looking better," she said instead of arguing.

"I feel better." _I think._ "I'm starting to get a handle on this magic, anyway."

Two days had passed before Rumplestiltskin had admitted to Belle that his new power was a mystery to him. Before that, he'd just slept, ate what Belle fed him, and generally tried to figure out who he was without the curse. Meanwhile, Belle had run interference with everyone else in the castle, convinced them to leave him alone, and sent a short message to Baelfire to tell him that his father was alive. Rumplestiltskin wasn't sure how he would have managed to put himself together without her constant reassuring presence, but all quips aside, he was starting to feel like he could face the world again without flinching.

Probably without turning people into noxious creatures for looking at him wrong, too.

"Is it helping?"

Rumplestiltskin considered skirting the topic before replying: "Magic always does."

Belle just squeezed his arm and offered him another smile that made his heart flutter in a better way than it had in at least a year. "So, have you decided yet?"

"Decided what?" Search his mind though he did, Rumplestiltskin couldn't recall what he was supposed to be deciding about, and Belle's soft laugh didn't help matters.

"Whether you want to be a monster or not, of course."

"Ah. _That_." Finally, his crooked smile felt real enough, even to him, and the expression hadn't even been forced. But he _did _know the answer. _I want the life where you and I are together, _he had told her back in Storybrooke. Belle deserved better than a monster, and for the first time in their convoluted relationship, he was in a position to give her something, some_one_, better than the monster he had been. "You know, I do believe I have."

"And are you going to share this realization with me?" Her playful smile told him that Belle knew that he wouldn't choose darkness over her, not again, hard though it might be to be something new.

Still, he wasn't upset with his decision. Uneasy, perhaps—but not unhappy.

"I suppose I'll simply be Rumplestiltskin," he answered honestly. "I'll never make the hero type, Belle—even before I was the Dark One, I was never that…_good_. But that doesn't mean I have to be evil, either. I can try to be better, or at least to do things for the right reasons."

The smile she turned on him was as bright as the sun, and he knew that he'd _finally _said the right thing, finally made the right choice.

There was nothing to say that he'd keep doing that, of course, but it was a start.

* * *

"Good luck to you," David said, shaking Thomas' hand with a smile. Standing next to the King—people had finally decided to start calling Charming a king after their last victory, it seemed—Baelfire wasn't surprised that Prince Thomas didn't offer to shake his hand, and just gave the younger man a parting nod.

Thomas was obviously trying to ignore Rumplestiltskin's son, particularly now that rumors that the old trickster _lived _were working their way around the army, but Baelfire let the attempted insult slide. He didn't care if Thomas' nose was out of joint. His father was alive. He still burned to know the details of how it had happened, however, because Belle's note, sent via tablet from the Dark Castle, was maddeningly short. (_Rumplestiltskin's alive and home, _she'd written. _He's fine. More later – Belle). _Of course, the others kept looking at Bae like he was supposed to know how Rumplestiltskin had pulled off the impossible. _Again._ Even Thomas had asked, though he'd seemed more wary than pleased, of course. He was probably wondering if he'd wind up vanishing again for payment on that reneged-upon deal now that Rumplestiltskin was back, but Bae didn't have any answers for him.

Unfortunately, that only made Thomas more hostile, particularly when Bae didn't bother to hide the fact that he was happy with the news. Because he _was _happy. Finally. He'd spent years running from magic, spent years being furious with his father for choosing power over him, and then hadn't even wanted to admit that there might be something of his father left inside the Dark One after all. It had taken their misadventures in Neverland to prove to Bae that his father had changed—or maybe he hadn't understood him very well in the first place. After all, he'd been fifteen when he left the Enchanted Forest, and the years he'd spent in Neverland meant that was a _long _time ago. Perhaps he'd been wrong, or perhaps Rumplestiltskin had just changed. Either way, it meant that Baelfire had lost his father right after he'd gotten him back, and that loss had been almost crippling_._

Losing his father certainly was responsible for his closeness with Belle, and even the odd friendship of sorts he'd formed with Regina. He'd wished a hundred times for just a few more days, for just a chance to say any one of the thousand things he should have said before Rumplestiltskin sacrificed himself to save them. And now he had that chance, so Thomas and the others who were upset by it could be damned for all Bae cared.

Ella was rather more polite than her husband, and even kissed him on the cheek before her husband shot her a dirty look. She stepped back to Thomas' side as the prince replied:

"Thank you. There's lots of work to do, but it'll be worth it. And you and Snow are always welcome, of course. Along with Emma, of course."

Word that Emma and Henry were back had arrived shortly before Belle's note had, making that day the single best one in Bae's entire life. Five days later, he was _still _so light-hearted that no amount of petty insults from silly princelings could ruin his good mood, so he happily ignored Thomas' attempts to belittle him. Knowing that Emma and Henry were safe at the Dark Castle meant more to him than anything else, even if it had been Hook to bring them back. He'd kicked himself more than once for not insisting on going to New York instead of Hook—Neal Cassidy knew that city, and knew the world that Hook had only spent a few brief months in—but the fact remained that he'd been needed here, and he _had _made a difference while Hook had been off playing hero. Now he could only hope that Emma hadn't decided that Hook coming from her meant Bae didn't care.

_There are times that being responsible really sucks, _he thought to himself. _Like now, when I need to help set up our new line of defenses instead of rushing home to greet my kid and my-whatever-she is._

Thomas and his entourage finally mounted their horses and rode away, leaving David and Baelfire standing alone. Bae watched the group of thirty or so—all countrymen of Thomas' heading home—for several long moments before saying what was on his mind. Even then, his own words made him scowl. Bae didn't relish playing the part of paranoid-in-chief; he'd just wound up in that role since he was surrounded by optimists. And he was too used to watching people double cross one another, probably due to his years in Neverland.

Bae sighed. "You're going to have to keep an eye on his father, you know."

"I know," David replied with a sigh of his own. "King Francis is…well, let's just say that I wish we'd been able to free Midas' kingdom first. _Midas _doesn't have an ounce of back down in him, and I don't think the Witch intimidates him one bit."

"I suppose it's hard to be intimidated by someone you can turn to gold with a touch," Bae agreed with a chuckle. "You know, kill an enemy and turn a profit all at the same time."

David snorted. "Unlimited ability to make gold or no, that's not a problem I'd like to have. I'd rather finance my kingdom the old fashioned way."

"Kingdoms," Bae corrected him with a smile. "Don't you have two?"

"Well, one of them is technically Snow's, but we are in this together, so…"

"I wish someone would tell King Francis that." He tried not to scowl, but it was hard. The last time Baelfire had seen King Francis—who, if possible, disliked him even _more _than Thomas did—the old king had been adamant that his kingdom had to be the first freed from the Witch's grasp. Unfortunately, his arguments had been persuasive in terms of strategy and geography if nothing else, but the way he'd argued for his own territory had put Bae's teeth on edge.

It didn't help that the other royals all knew Francis well enough to understand the type of king he was. He always allied himself with the strongest power around. He'd been one of Regina's firmer allies in Storybrooke (he'd been Judge Herman there, which had given the mayor an advantage that couldn't be discounted), and back before the curse, he'd apparently been in bed with Midas and Regina both, bouncing between whichever could offer him a better deal at the time. At the bottom line, King Francis was like a damn weathervane, swinging whichever way the wind blew.

"I don't think _telling _him will help at all," David replied with uncharacteristic frustration. "Threatening him might work, but what can we do that wouldn't scare him into the Witch's arms?"

"Thomas offered to come back to the army."

"So?"

"So take him up on it." The pieces were rapidly falling into place inside Baelfire's head, and little though he might have liked Prince Thomas, he knew that the kid had a much stronger sense of honor than his father did. "Even King Francis isn't pragmatic enough to sacrifice his son and heir. If Thomas is _here_, fighting with us, Francis will stay on our side."

"And that gives us the ability to feed the army," David agreed. "Francis' kingdom has farmland to spare, and when he gets people working the land again…"

"Exactly."

_I hate politics. _It wasn't a perfect solution, but it was the best they had. Baelfire wasn't sure when he'd wandered into the deep waters of Enchanted Forest politics, but here he was—advising a flipping _King _on what to do to keep their fragile alliance together. Worse yet, the King in question was the father of the woman he was in love with, and Bae still wasn't quite sure how to approach that topic with David. Somewhere during the last year, he and David had become actual _friends_, so how did he explain to David that he still wanted a relationship with his daughter? David and Snow accepted the fact that he was Henry's father without too much argument, but accepting youthful indiscretions and accepting a relationship were so not the same thing.

Was he playing at politics to prove to them that he was worthy of Emma? To be honest, Bae wasn't sure. At least he knew that he hadn't come out to the army for that reason, but politics were another matter entirely. Why couldn't the girl he fell for years ago have been as simple as she seemed back then? Why did Emma have to be a damn _princess_?

* * *

So far, Operation Jellyfish was a bust. Ever since he and his mom had arrived in the Enchanted Forest, Henry had been trying to find a way to convince his othermom to teach him magic. Regina had seemed worried at first that he'd be angry at her for using magic, and though he'd tried to reassure her—which was easy, because everyone kept talking about all the good Regina had done, and how badly they'd needed her over the last year—he still hadn't managed to get around to his point subtly enough. But coming right out and asking wasn't an option, particularly since he didn't get much time alone with Regina. Left to her own devices, Regina would probably offer to teach him, but things weren't that simple.

Henry knew his birth mom well enough to know that Emma wouldn't like him learning magic, particularly since she seemed disinclined to learn to use her _own _magic, an odd decision that he didn't understand at all. Emma seemed to have a special kind of magic, too, or at least one that most people didn't have, which meant she had _double _the reasons to learn, but she wasn't listening to that kind of logic, even when Regina mentioned it. They only started arguing, and had to agree to disagree. So Henry doubted that Emma wanted him to learn, which meant he had to sneak around her.

It was kind of funny that Operation Jellyfish wasn't about avoiding Regina's attention. No, this time he meant to outfox his other mother by convincing Regina that it was _her _idea to teach him magic. Unfortunately, so far she'd ignored all of his hints. Henry didn't think his mother was stupid, which meant she was deliberately overlooking his attempt to be subtle. That probably had something to do with the way Pan had tricked her when he was in Henry's body, but Henry wasn't about to give up. And when Regina's many wards around the Dark Castle detected something odd—odd as in funny but not dangerous—he asked if he could go along with her when she went out to see which wild animal had managed to trap itself in a magical net. Emma was busy with Hook, talking about something or another, so Regina let him tag along.

He peppered her with questions about what magic she'd used during the mile-long walk out to her wards, hoping that Regina might come up with the idea on her own, but she seemed more interested in talking about the friends he'd made and the classes he'd taken back in New York. _Why do parents always care about school and stuff? It's not like I'm going to use that here in the Enchanted Forest!_ The moment Hook had given him and Emma their memories back, Henry had been able to think of little else. He'd waited his entire life to come back to the home he _should _have grown up in, and he didn't want to waste time thinking about school now.

It wasn't that Henry minded learning. He just wanted to learn something other than dry Land Without Magic type academic stuff. But thinking about learning actually gave him an idea, so he answered Regina's next question about his school with:

"Do you think you could teach me to ride a horse, Mom? David started showing me back in Storybrooke, but we never really got very far."

Regina stopped to stare at him, a soft smile growing on her face. "Of course I can, Henry. Do you really want to learn?"

"Definitely! I mean, everyone needs to know here, right? And it seems really fun."

"Riding can be fun, but it can also be a lot of work," his mom replied. "Are you ready for that?"

"I'm thirteen, not _three_. I can work hard." He would, too, and not just because getting Regina to teach him to ride was maybe the first step towards getting her to teach him magic. Henry also missed spending time with just the two of them, the way it had been back in Storybrooke before everything changed. He wouldn't trade his new life for anything, but he did miss having Regina to himself.

"You'd better work hard," she cautioned him, but the stern words were ruined by her smile. "I started riding when I was much younger than you are now, so you'll have a lot of catching up to do."

"How old were you when you started?"

A faraway look drifted onto her face, suddenly making Regina look much younger. "Six. My father always loved horses."

"You named me after him, right?" He remembered the casket in the vault in Storybrooke, and spent a moment wondering where it had gone in this new world. Most items seemed to have gone back to where they were before the curse hit; would that have returned to Grandma Snow's kingdom, too?

"I did." Her smile was wistful. "You remind me of him, sometimes. Even if you aren't actually related by blood."

On impulse, Henry hugged his mother one-armed as they walked, and basked in the radiant smile she gave him. Years ago, when he'd thought Regina didn't love him, he'd been so very wrong. She'd just had problems showing it, but he understood that now that he was older and wiser.

"You're still my mom," he said softly. "And—"

Henry cut off as Regina stopped abruptly, stepping in front of him as her hands came up.

"What's wrong?" he asked breathlessly, his heart suddenly pounding.

"I know that _creature_," she hissed, making Henry's eyes follow Regina's. There. About twenty feet away, shielded from view by a tree before now, a short black unicorn stood trapped in an invisible web of magic, staring pathetically at the pair. It didn't seem afraid of them, though, and seemed just to be waiting patiently for someone to free it.

"Aren't unicorns supposed to be good?" Henry wondered. "How could it get caught in your magic, if the spells are only supposed to keep the bad creatures out?"

The unicorn bleated hopefully as if to underline Henry's point, stretching its nose out towards him in a silent plea for help. Although the stubby-legged creature was nothing like Henry had expected a unicorn to look—he'd always imagined them a lot taller and way more majestic—it looked so sad and so friendly that he felt obligated to help it. And to pet it, too. Was it okay to pet unicorns?

"It's not the unicorn I'm worried about, Henry," Regina growled, looking around cautiously.

"Then what is it? We can't just leave him there. We should help him."

Regina scowled. "Not just yet. What I'm worried about is that—"

"That my innocent pet would only be trapped if I put it there?" another voice intruded, and Henry spun around to face a second woman, one who wore an interesting headdress and was clad in many shades of purple and black. Her voice was ice cold, however, and her face twisted up in evil amusement. She had one hand on a staff, and stood a dozen or so feet away from them where Henry had been _certain _there'd been only grass a few moments earlier. "You're slipping, Regina," the other sorceress said, because she _had _to be using magic. "You should have noticed the ruse as soon as you left the Dark Castle."

"I was distracted," his mom ground out, clenching her fists. "Maleficent."

"Hello to you, too, _old friend_."

But there was nothing friendly in her voice, and Henry was really starting to get worried. _Be brave, _he told himself. He came from a family of heroes and sorcerers. Henry wouldn't let himself be anything other than strong. "Mom?" he whispered. "What's going on?"

"I'll handle this, Henry," was all Regina said, stepping in front of him.

He swallowed as Maleficent's cold gaze zeroed in on him. Her hair was loose and dark shadows framed her eyes, giving her a wild look. Despite his resolution to be brave, Henry shivered.

"So you're the boy," Maleficent said thoughtfully. "Stand aside. Unlike your 'mother,' I do not make war upon children or innocents."

Henry scowled, remembering the stories in his book. "Didn't you curse Sleeping Beauty at her christening? I'd say cursing a baby counts for evil."

"Be silent!" the fallen fairy thundered, her fury making wind whip viciously around Henry and Regina. But Regina didn't back down; in fact, she stepped closer to the other sorceress, her hands up and ready to cast magic.

"Leave my son out of this, Maleficent," she snarled. "But if you want a fight, you've got one."

"Oh, I want more than a fight, Regina," the other retorted. "I want _revenge._"

"Get in line."

Something very like pain crossed Maleficent's face before it was replaced by hard anger. "I was your friend! I would have stood by you, and instead you forced me to guard a stupid broken _coffin _for twenty-eight years! And if that wasn't insult enough, your magic wouldn't even let me die when the savior threw her sword into my heart. No, it forced my spirit to stand guard over your failsafe, _just in case _you wanted to destroy everyone a second time," she spat. "But unfortunately for you, I _was _a fairy. And you left me alive."

"Are you going to try to talk me to death?" Regina demanded, laughing. Her obvious confidence made Henry stare; he'd never really seen this side of his mother, and she was _amazing._ "Because I promise you that even if I am trying to be good, my magic is no less powerful than it was. And I'm sure you remember who won our _last _encounter."

"Oh, I haven't forgotten," Maleficent replied, and her staff came up.

Regina moved to counter her, but no sooner had the words left Maleficent's mouth than a sudden wall of darkness rose up out of the ground in front of Regina and Henry, thick and black and feeling of death. It hit them both before Henry could even begin to shout a warning, and then everything went black.

* * *

_**A/N:**_ _So, the questions for this chapter: 1) What do you think Maleficent has in mind for Regina, and 2) What do you think the price of Rumplestiltskin's new magic is? Some of you came very close in guessing where his magic comes from, but the cost of it is something else entirely. _

_In the meantime, please review to let me know what you think! Stay tuned for Chapter 9: "Strange Bedfellows," in which Emma, Henry, Hook, and an unexpected ally go to look into Regina's disappearance, and Charming runs afoul of one of the Witch's nastier attacks._


	10. Chapter 9: Strange Bedfellows

_**Chapter Nine—"Strange Bedfellows"**_

* * *

"Mom!"

Looking dirty and disheveled, Henry came running into the great hall, where Emma and Hook had been pouring over maps of the various kingdoms of the Enchanted Forest. Emma would be the first to admit that her geography was shoddy even in the world she'd grown up in (after all, why else pick a place to live by blindly stabbing at a map?), but she had a feeling that she'd actually need to understand borders and countries and such in the crazy world her parents were from. So, she'd grabbed Hook, who seemed to be the least busy person in the entire Dark Castle, and demanded he show her a thing or to.

She hadn't really been counting on the fact that Hook only looked at the borders between kingdoms when said boundaries touched the water, or that he'd spent centuries more in Neverland than he had in the Enchanted Forest. He was _from _here, of course, but apparently hadn't ever paid any more attention to geography than she did, which meant he was somewhere around zero help. Ruby had pulled out some maps for them, however, which at least meant they could take a stab at educating themselves. Emma figured she'd have a thousand and one questions for her mother later, but at the moment Snow was busy mediating a dispute between representatives of King Midas and someone else. Trying to keep the various royals straight was enough to give Emma a headache, but at least her mother managed well enough. From what Emma had gathered, Snow was the glue that kept their disjointed "Grand Alliance" together, and hardly a day went by when someone new didn't tromp on up to the Dark Castle to have Snow settle some problem or another.

Maps forgotten, she spun towards her son. "What's wrong, Henry?" A split second passed before she remembered where her son had gone off to, and more importantly, who he had gone with. "Where's Regina?"

"Gone," Henry panted. His hair was sticking up in the back, and were those leaves tangled in it? "Maleficent must have set some kind of trap, or something, and when I woke up, Mom was _gone! _We have to go find her!"

"Hang on a sec, here, kid," Emma interjected before Henry could get too far ahead of himself. Walking over to her son, she put a hand on his shoulder. "Where were you, and what exactly happened?"

"We were about a mile away. Near the road. I ran back."

No wonder Henry was breathing hard.

"We should go investigate immediately," Hook put in before Emma could reply. "Regina might not be far."

"She's not there! I looked," Henry glared at the pirate.

"We should go anyway," Emma reasoned. "There might be clues to where she is _now_."

Henry looked up at her, his brown eyes huge and watery. "It's my fault," he whispered. "I distracted her. If I hadn't been there, she'd have seen Maleficent, and she could have _done _something."

"Oh, Henry." At thirteen, he was almost too old for comforting hugs, but Emma wrapped her arm around him, anyway. "It's not your fault. And I know Regina won't blame you, either. Let's just go find her, okay?"

Henry nodded as Hook asked: "Hold for one moment, love—isn't Maleficent the name of that dragon you slew, and the same nasty spirit that Regina left lurking underneath the library in Storybrooke?"

"Yeah. So?"

"I do remember her quite well, but she wasn't particularly dangerous when I last encountered her. Her spirit was an angry little beastie, but hardly the sort Regina could fail to overcome." Hook shrugged eloquently, his handsome face creased thoughtfully. "So, I hate to doubt young Henry, but might we be dealing with someone else?"

"Mom _said _it was Maleficent, and I saw her. She looked just like she did in the book," Henry retorted.

For the first time ever, Emma actually missed Henry's storybook. While she certainly believed that Henry had all but memorized it back in Storybrooke, a year _had _passed, and she didn't recall Maleficent being a major character. Heck, she hardly remembered her as anything other than a dragon, and Emma had only learned her name later, anyway. Much later.

"Then perhaps someone is impersonating her," Hook replied, oblivious to the fact that Henry was glaring at him again.

"Look, it doesn't matter," Emma interjected before her son and her whatever-he-was could get into a spat. Was Hook a boyfriend? She wasn't sure. She was attracted to him, sure, but she'd been attracted to plenty of men over the years. They'd only kissed once, and even if it had been rather extraordinary, it was _only _a kiss. "We need to figure out what happened no matter who did it. So let's get moving."

"You're going to need some help with that, dearie."

Spinning around, Emma was surprised to find Gold walking down a nearby set of stairs. He was dressed rather like he'd been in Neverland, except the odd leather outfit apparently came in shades of brown in this world, right down to freaking leather _pants_. Rather like they had in Neverland, though, the clothes suited him in an odd way, and Emma immediately noticed that there seemed to be something different about him here. Perhaps it was just the lack of a cane. Emma would never get used to thinking of Gold without one. Then again, she might have had more of a chance to get used to the sight if not for the fact that he might as well have been on another planet since the day they'd both returned. So far as Emma knew, no one other than Belle had seen much of him, which wouldn't have bothered her one bit if the man wasn't Henry's other grandfather.

So she scowled at him. "What, are you volunteering?"

Because of course he wouldn't. Although Emma had never really managed to define the relationship between Gold and Regina, she knew that while Regina was obviously trying to do the right thing and fight with the good guys, Gold wasn't the type. No, he'd rather sit on the sidelines and watch. Maybe he'd try to manipulate others into doing what he wanted_. _Even in Neverland, when he'd claimed to be along to help, he'd only gone off on his own. Not a team player, Gold.

"Indeed I am." He smiled thinly.

"Why?" Apparently Hook shared her suspicions.

"Because unless our dear Miss Swan has developed her magical talent during the last year, someone is going to need to determine if Regina's disappearance was Maleficent's doing or not," Gold replied, wearing his maddening I-know-more-than-you expression.

"I've been in the Land _Without _Magic, Gold," Emma glared. How dare he try to put this on her? "And without my memories. That didn't exactly give me a lot of time for magic practice."

He blinked, seemingly taken aback by what she'd said. A flicker of confusion crossed his face, making Emma scowl even harder. Not that she didn't relish the opportunity to catch Gold off guard, but she didn't appreciate having done so by accident. _This is just weird._ Gold, however, recovered quickly, and soon he was wearing the same passively thoughtful look that was absolutely programed to drive her insane, right down to the all-knowing twitch of a smile.

"My point exactly," he said smoothly, as if nothing had disturbed him at all. "And you really should get used to using my name, dear, because I assure you—it's not Gold. Particularly here."

"What, you actually go by that mouthful you call a name?" she shot back.

Gold chuckled softly. "Oh, I most certainly do."

So, that was how Emma, Hook, and Henry wound up tromping down the road leading away from the Dark Castle with the most infuriating man Emma had ever met—and since she'd had a meaningful relationship with his _son_, that was saying something! Hook wasn't above shooting half-wary, half-hostile looks at Gold/Rumplestiltskin (did he _really _expect people to call him that?), but given the history those two had, Emma wasn't surprised. And she didn't blame Hook, either, because _she _had enough history with Gold to not trust him at all. Even when he was supposedly on their side.

He'd proven damn trustworthy when it came to getting rid of Pan, but Emma figured that accepting Regina as a good guy—which she'd done—was enough metal gymnastics for now. Regina at least had motivations that Emma could understand. Gold was a whole lot more cagey, and even if Regina had told them where he'd apparently been for the last year, Emma wasn't sure he could be trusted. He'd played them far too many times back in Storybrooke. Henry, of course, decided that now was a great time to have a conversation with his other grandfather.

"Can you really help find my mom?" her son asked quietly.

"Of course I can, Henry," Gold replied, and not for the first time, Emma was grateful that he was always nicer to kids than he was to adults. Then again, Henry probably had a bit of innate protection, being the man's grandson and all—from what Neal had told her, Gold _did _feel family was important, despite the many problems father and son seemed to have. But at least those problems seemed to be in the past. _For Henry's sake, they'd better be!_ Still listening, Emma pushed aside a sudden pang of longing to see Neal again, telling herself that she missed him for Henry's sake.

"But I thought you wouldn't have magic with your curse broken." Leave it to Henry to voice the thought everyone was having; apparently even Regina hadn't gotten a straight answer on that front, though Belle probably had.

Gold chuckled, and his voice took on an odd sing-song-y note when he replied: "Well, I do like to keep people on their toes."

"But did you _know _you'd have magic? And if you knew, why wouldn't you want your curse broken sooner?" Henry pressed.

"That's a complicated question," Gold replied. "Some curses—particularly the more powerful ones—take on a life of their own over time. Depending upon how they were created, they either want to be broken, or they want to survive. Take the Dark Curse, for example. That curse _wanted_ to be broken. I made sure of that when I wrote it."

"Really?"

"Why do you think the curse created your book?"

Emma's son turned wide eyes on his grandfather, thoroughly distracted away from his worry for Regina. "Wow. That's really cool."

"I'll admit that I didn't expect a story book, but I did know the curse would do _something._ I never anticipated you, though."

"Why not? You can still see the future, can't you? I didn't think that had anything to do with your curse."

"I can. But the ability to see the future isn't like watching a movie. It's more like having the pieces to a hundred different puzzles and not knowing where each piece goes, or even which puzzle that piece belongs in. It takes a lot of practice to get it right, and even then, you never see everything," Gold admitted.

"That sounds really complicated."

"Very."

"So about your curse," Emma's son turned back to the subject she was most interested in as she and Hook walked behind the pair. Bless his curious heart. "Was it one of the ones that didn't want to be broken?"

"Oh, yes." Gold's face twitched suspiciously. "The curse of the Dark One is, at its core, absolute darkness. It might even be the oldest curse in the world, though our history of magic is spotty at best."

Emma exchanged a glance with Hook during the impromptu magical lecture; she really wasn't interested in big picture magic any more than Hook was, but Henry looked absolutely enraptured. And knowing if Gold's curse really _was_ broken—and what that meant—was useful, too. Under other circumstances, she might have tried to put a stop to the conversation—magic wasn't quite what Henry needed to be learning—but at least it was working to distract Henry from his frantic worry about Regina. At the moment, that counted for a lot, too, even if Hook was rolling his eyes while she tried not to snicker. Henry looked so solemn and fascinated, though, and Emma couldn't bring herself to laugh at him. Or even to let him think she might be.

Finally, they reached yet another bend in the continuously winding road that led away from the gates. The trees were starting to grow a little closer to the road, now—before, they'd seemed to form some sort of unnatural corridor, almost as if afraid to grow too close. Henry pointed off to the right as the direction he and Regina had headed, and the quartet turned that way. Emma and Hook drifted a bit further to the right than the other two; exchanging another silent glance of agreement. If trouble showed up, they were undoubtedly better suited to deal with it than Henry or his recently-back-from-the-dead grandfather. She'd snagged a sword from the armory back at the Dark Castle, and Emma already knew Hook was handy in a fight.

"Shouldn't the fairies know what happened in the beginning?" Henry asked next, and Emma didn't miss the way Gold's eyes narrowed in distaste when she glanced over her left shoulder at the pair. "I mean, the Blue Fairy is pretty much from the beginning of magic, isn't she?"

"That she is." It definitely wasn't Emma's imagination; Gold's voice had gone a bit sharper on that answer.

"So, why don't you ask her?"

Gold chuckled, but this time his voice was low and absolutely lacking in mirth. "You might say that Reul Ghorm and I don't precisely see eye to—stop walking, Miss Swan."

Emma stopped cold, grabbing Hook's arm so that he did the same. A moment passed with no explanation, so she turned and demanded:

"What the hell, Gold?"

He wasn't even looking at her, and he certainly didn't seem to be working magic, either. Instead his gaze was fastened somewhere in the middle distance, unfocused and probably not seeing the trees he was staring at. And there was _nothing to stare at_. Emma couldn't _feel _anything, either, even when she strained with her senses or with the magic she often wished she didn't have. But there was nothing. Sneaking another glance at Gold, she noticed that he _still _hadn't done anything other than stop, either.

"This _isn't _funny," Emma snarled.

"Nor should it be," Gold finally replied, his voice blasé again. "But another few steps and you would have walked into a trap of rather impressive magnitude. Here. Allow me to help you visualize."

Smoothly, his right hand came up from his side, palm up and fingers flicking outwards, as if Gold was tossing something very gently. A moment later, light leapt into the air about fifteen feet in front of Emma, sparkling purple and black and red. It hung in the air, looking like long and thick threads that were laced intricately together into a giant loosely woven tapestry. _No, it's _two _tapestries. _The first hung vertically, almost like a wall, ready for Emma and Hook to walk unknowingly into. The second hung perpendicular to the first, hovering behind it in the air, looking like a net. It wasn't moving, but somehow Emma got the impression that the net was designed to drop down and trap someone.

_Probably us._

"What _is _that?" Hook asked from her right, sounding almost a little awed.

"That's magic," Henry answered for Gold, and Emma was surprised to see the sorcerer smile slightly at his grandson. But the answer wasn't enough, so she looked back at Gold.

"Why is it _visible_? Why now?"

"Because I made it so," he replied. "When you grow accustomed to magic, Miss Swan, when you embrace its use instead of thinking of it as simply another tool, you _can _see magic. All magic."

She stared dubiously at the shiny threads hanging in the air. Back before she and Henry had left Storybrooke, Emma had just started to be able to _feel _magic, but only when she was trying very hard. "Are you trying to say that you see magic like this all the time?"

"See, feel, taste." Gold shrugged. "Magic isn't one of your five senses. It's another sense entirely. Some spells are simply easier to deconstruct when you can visualize them."

"Deconstruct?" Hook spoke up warily, and Emma had to agree. That…_mess _didn't look ready to go away. In fact, it looked damn sturdy, and dangerous, too. Now that she could see the magic, she was starting to be able to feel it, too, and it _felt_ dark and nasty. Emma shivered.

"Of course. Believe me, this isn't the type of thing you want to leave hanging around."

Stepping towards the magical tapestry, Gold raised his right hand, curling his first two fingers as if he was beckoning the magic towards himself. After a moment, the vertical mess shivered and one thread started to separate from the others, slithering through the air towards Gold. Then his left hand came up, repeating the same process with the horizontal net-looking spell. Both strands moved slowly at first, and then faster and faster—and then suddenly both spells collapsed in on themselves, the threads falling towards the ground and disintegrating. Emma could feel the magic dissipating, too, floating off into the air and going…well, she didn't know where. But it was definitely leaving.

And then the shimmering messes of threads were gone, leaving the forest looking and feeling normal.

"Is that it?" Emma blurted out even as Henry asked:

"Is that what took Mom away?"

Gold turned to look at his grandson. "In part. That _is_, or rather was, Maleficent's magic. The first spell is what knocked you both unconscious, and the second one transported Regina to the Forbidden Fortress. However, the second spell was…tweaked a little bit. Anyone trying to use it to follow Regina would wind up somewhere else entirely."

"Clever," Hook said approvingly as Henry frowned.

"Then we have to go to the Forbidden Fortress, don't we?"

"The only place you're going is back to the Dark Castle," Emma told her son, cutting in before Gold could encourage him. This wouldn't be the first time she'd gone off to rescue Regina for Henry's sake, but there was no way in hell she was going to bring their thirteen year old son with her!

"Mom, I'm—"

"Not coming," she cut him off.

""Your mother is right, Henry." Surprisingly, it was Gold backing her up instead of Hook. "In fact, I daresay that no one should go to the Forbidden Fortress at all."

"What?" Emma gaped even as Hook demanded:

"Have you gone mad? I may not like Regina much, but we can't leave her there. We _need _her."

Gold only snorted. "If Maleficent wanted Regina dead, we would have found her body, not a trap designed to delay pursuit. Maleficent and Regina have a complicated friendship, but I assure you, it _is _a friendship. She won't harm her. Or at least not permanently."

* * *

"This is getting bad," David grumbled, spitting out a mouthful of dirt and stone. Or at least he hoped it was stone. The way the roof was coming down around them, he couldn't really be certain.

"That's an understatement," Baelfire muttered from his right, rising up out of his crouch long enough to peek out one of the arrow slits in the wall. "They're only getting closer, and the fires are just about out."

"Great."

The pair—along with a good portion of their army, but not as much of it as David would have hoped for, given the current situation—were stuck inside an ancient army fort, one built probably long before even Baelfire had been born. They'd co-opted and repaired the place, and its half dozen fellows, in order to form a defensive line from which to engage the Witch's forces, but David sure hadn't expected an attack within a day of their arrival. _Even if I had, I wouldn't have expected ogres!_

Baelfire's typical thoroughness had saved them. When the ogres had appeared—almost out of nowhere!—two hours earlier, they'd run afoul of several lines of buried oil, which the archers had quickly made ignite. That trap was quickly becoming Baelfire's trademark way of dealing with ogres, and it was the one thing, short of archers and catapults, that was always guaranteed to work. Ogres _always _were afraid of fire. It seemed to be part of their genetic makeup, and fire always chased them off. Had Greek Fire existed in the Enchanted Forest, David would have used that against them, but no one seemed to have invented the predecessor of napalm, though Doc was working on something like it. For the moment, however, the buried oil was the best option, and David was darn glad that Baelfire had insisted on digging that into the ground before their foot soldiers got settled in.

David would have never expected Baelfire to make a general, but Henry's father had a habit of pulling off surprises. He hadn't expected to _like_ the (sort of) younger man this much, either, but by now they were more than a smooth and efficient team—they were friends. In fact, although he'd come to respect Hook during their time in Neverland, he liked Baelfire a great deal more than he did the pirate, and David hoped like hell that Emma shared his opinion. Knowing his stubborn daughter as he did, however, David had no intention of telling her. It would only make Emma contrary.

"We've got to do something about this. And about the damned monkeys. Who taught them to drop rocks on us like this?" Almost on cue, a rumbling noise came from above the pair. The fortress was only three stories high, and they'd abandoned the top floor an hour ago when parts of the roof started caving in, but pretty soon there wouldn't be enough space for everyone inside. Baelfire made a rude gesture at the ceiling and continued: "Man, what I wouldn't give for a shotgun right now."

"A machine gun would be better. But to be honest, I'm more worried about the ogres," David said, listening to the second rumble carefully. At least it didn't sound like the entire roof had collapsed; apparently, flying monkeys could be trained to drop big rocks, but not to aim them very well.

"Yeah, they're not exactly acting normally." Baelfire snuck another look out. "I think our boys are running out of arrows, and the ogres don't seem as afraid of fire as they should be. It _also _looks like something is controlling them."

A shiver ran down David's spine. "Are you sure?"

"Come look for yourself."

Heaving himself up off the floor—the second to last group of rocks that the monkeys dropped had knocked both of them off their feet—David stumbled over to where Baelfire crouched next to the archery slit and peered out.

Their archers had given up firing in volleys some time earlier; they were each shooting individually, now, trying for the critical shot to the eye that would take an ogre out. But Baelfire was right; they were clearly running out of arrows, because the rate of fire was dying down quickly. But that wasn't really what caught David's eye. No, what captured his attention was something much more worrisome. It was impossible, utterly unheard of and went thoroughly against everything David knew about ogres. He'd been fighting them—with more success than any other general in history—for over a year. David knew them, knew what ogres were capable of. Yet he'd never seen anything like this.

The ogres were in a _battle_ _formation. _And were those some sort of _shields _they were carrying? David resisted the urge to swear under his breath.

"You have _got _to be kidding me."

"See?" Baelfire asked quietly. "I told you they were acting weird."

_Weird_ didn't begin to describe how the ogres were fighting, but David supposed that really wasn't the most important issue at the moment. The bottom line was that the few hundred soldiers they'd brought to this place really weren't enough to fight off a few dozen ogres under any circumstances. The particular situation only sent things from bad to even worse, but they were going to lose even if the ogres started acting normally that very instant.

"We need help," David breathed.

Baelfire didn't argue. "I'll go down and see if we can't slow them down. You write Snow and tell her to send Regina."

"You got it."

_I sure hope Regina is feeling feisty today, because we're going to need all the anger and fire she can summon up. _David didn't even want to think about the irony of calling on the Evil Queen to quell evil creatures, particularly given the fact that said Evil Queen had locked him in a dungeon, fed his fiancé a poisoned apple, tried repeatedly to murder him, invaded his wedding with threats, and then cursed David and everyone else he knew into the worst world she could possibly imagine. Yet, despite everything, Regina was also the woman who with whom he had risked everything in Neverland, and who had raised his grandson.

He was okay with depending upon her. More than okay, actually. David wasn't sure when that had happened, but he pulled out the tablet and started to write:

_Snow—David here. We're at the old fort seven miles east of Weselton. Under attack by ogres, need Regina fast._

There really wasn't anything else to say, so David shoved the tablet back into the pouch on his belt and headed down to join the fight.

* * *

_**A/N:**_ _Question time!_ _1) What do you think Maleficent intends to do with Regina and (in case it slipped your mind) 2) Do you think Snow and David are going to have a boy or girl? _

_In the meanwhile, stay tuned for Chapter 10: "A Stain on the Soul" in which Baelfire and Rumplestiltskin finally reunite, the Blue Fairy expresses some doubts, and you find out the answer to question #2. Please do take a moment to review and let me know what you think!_


	11. Chapter 10: A Stain on the Soul

_**Chapter Ten—"A Stain on the Soul"**_

* * *

When he appeared an hour later, he found Charming and his officers gathered in a dirty, crumbling room on the second floor of the fort, staring at one another in confusion. Every one of them looked haggard and run down, and the dirt covering the dozen or so faces often made it hard to tell the men apart from the few women. One of the officers was trying to explain:

"—suddenly stopped. Then a giant wall of fire just sprang up out of nowhere and started burning them. The ogres kept trying to advance through the flames, but they just…"

"Burned, I daresay," he interjected, wandering straight into this conversation the way he'd wandered into so many others.

Everyone whirled to stare at him, and it was almost like he'd stepped backwards in time to before the Dark Curse. For a moment, he had to fight back the urge to look down at his hands and see if they were suddenly golden-grayish again, with scales and black claws that called themselves fingernails. He'd waltzed into this sort of situation half a hundred times, all sharp edges and nasty giggles, demanding what he wanted, playing with people, and then leaving on his own terms. He'd been a force of nature, then, feared by all…and no matter how much he told himself that he enjoyed the games, after the first hundred years or so, the dance had lost its luster. Oh, there had been moments he appreciated, but often the smiles had all been part of the act.

No longer. This was different, and although Rumplestiltskin wasn't entirely comfortable with the role the war had forced him into—or at least temporarily assigned him—he didn't have to go back to what he'd _been_, either. For the first time in centuries, he had a genuine choice. _And that's why I'm here._ Still smiling, he turned his mind back to the confused group of soldiers.

"I understand you have an ogre problem. Or had one, to be more accurate."

"That was _your _doing?" Charming's jaw dropped, but Rumplestiltskin's attention was drawn by a second voice. He'd known Baelfire was with Charming's army, but hadn't seen his son in the crowd; he'd been the one still looking out the narrow window, with his back to the others. But now Baelfire had turned, his face white and whisper tentative:

"Papa?"

"Hello, Bae." It was a woefully inadequate response, but was apparently enough, because his son crossed the room in three long strides and hugged him tight. Rumplestiltskin returned the embrace , letting out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

He'd been so certain that he'd never see his son again, so certain that his sacrifice _would _be worth it because his death would give Bae a chance at a happy life, the kind of life he'd never truly be able to have with the Dark One as his father. The kind of life he'd taken from his son all those years ago when he'd stolen the dagger, making a deal that he hadn't understood the price of. Knowing that Bae and Belle would live had given him the strength to kill Pan, to kill himself, and this was a moment he had never even dared imagine. Even knowing his son was alive during the last five days—had it really been so few?—had made their reunion hard to visualize. He hadn't exactly thought that Bae would be angry, but there was no way to know for sure.

"I thought you were dead," Baelfire said, his voice choked and muffled against Rumplestiltskin's shoulder.

He chuckled softly, ignoring the lump in his own throat. "Apparently, I'm not very good at killing myself."

Belle would have yelled at him for making a joke about it, but Rumplestiltskin could feel Bae smile, and a quiet laugh escaped his son before Bae pulled back to look at him. "But how…?"

"Pan's dead," he reassured his son, and then explained: "But there's a very old magic tied to self-sacrifice. That magic can save you, but not if you expect it to. And only if you do it for the right reasons."

"You really didn't think it would."

"Of course not. There was far too much darkness in me for something like that to work," Rumplestiltskin answered honestly, watching his son's face carefully. Baelfire had always been a bright boy, and although everyone else in the room was still stuck on the _Rumplestiltskin-killed-the-ogres _part of the conversation, Bae did not disappoint.

"You said 'was'," his son said almost immediately. "And you look—"

"Indeed I do." Now he could smile, a real smile, one that reminded him of being a father three centuries ago, before darkness had so ruined his soul. "I seem to have broken my curse in the process."

"Oh." Bae's face split into a grin, and suddenly, he laughed. "Well if that's all it took, why didn't you come up with that solution earlier? It would have saved us both an awful lot of heartache."

Rumplestiltskin snorted. _Well, he is _my _son._ And Rumplestiltskin's somewhat crooked sense of humor had not been something he'd inherited along with the Dark One's curse, either. "The next time I pick up some ancient life-altering curse, I'll be sure to have you remind me of that," he retorted dryly, but couldn't keep the slight smile off his own face.

"Damn straight." Then Bae's voice turned soft. "It's good to have you back, Papa."

"It's good to be back."

Rumplestiltskin really wished he could have these reunions in private, because the next question was one he had expected but had not yet figured out how to completely avoid. Fortunately, his son was more circumspect than Regina had been, though in retrospect, he supposed it really didn't matter who knew that he'd not had magic before the curse. Obviously he still _did_, much though he couldn't explain where it came from. He really did want to avoid that round of questions from anyone other than Bae, though. If he didn't tell Bae, Belle would, and he'd rather not earn both of their ire over his habit of keeping secrets from them, so Rumplestiltskin would just tell his son the truth. But not in front of everyone else.

"You…killed the ogres?" Bae approached the topic of his magic obliquely.

"That I did." Squeezing his son's shoulder, Rumplestiltskin added softly: "More on that later."

Bae nodded. His eyes were full of curiosity, but he would wait. So Rumplestiltskin turned to face Charming and the others, flipping his right hand up in a swirly motion so very reminiscent of his own past. _Hm. Apparently the flamboyant mannerisms became _mine _as much as the imp's._

"However, that may not be the end of your problem."

"What do you mean?" Charming asked immediately.

"I mean that although these ogres are dead—and burned, so that their bodies can't be reanimated and sent after you again—they weren't acting normally. Did you notice that they seemed…smarter than usual?"

Interestingly enough, Charming exchanged a look with Rumplestiltskin's son. The prince grimaced. "Yeah…"

"I told you so," Bae put in mildly, and the knowing twitch of his eyebrows made Rumplestiltskin swallow back a snort of amusement.

"Then it shouldn't come as a surprise to you that those ogres were being controlled by someone. Or something," he explained. "The first thing I tried was to turn them away with magic. It's the simplest way to be rid of ogres; you convince them to go home. Ogres aren't very bright creatures, for all their strength and capacity for violence, and if you can make them believe that the territory they have is as good as the territory they wish to gain, they'll leave. But these didn't. Even when faced with fire."

"So, the Witch is controlling them. That makes sense." Charming shrugged. "But it doesn't change much."

"You're not listening."

More than a few of Charming's people jerked up short when Rumplestiltskin called him out like that, but at least Bae wasn't one of them. And to give Charming credit, the prince only smiled, not offended in the slightest. "Okay. So what aren't I seeing?"

"Ogres fear fire more than just about anything," Bae answered, and Rumplestiltskin swallowed back another smile, unspeakably proud of his son. "The Witch can't make them run through it as if it weren't there, can she?"

"She could, but your reasoning is sound. She'd have to be _here _to do so. The amount of magic it takes to force ogres to act against their natures is profound. Bastinda could manage it, but not from a distance. No, I suspect she's using something else."

"Some sort of talisman?" Charming was starting to get it.

"Some sort, yes."

"Are you going to tell us what that is, or do I have to make some sort of deal with you?" Charming asked next, and Rumplestiltskin laughed.

"I think we're a bit beyond that point, don't you?" he asked lightly, mostly just to watch the befuddled expression cross the prince's face. Oh, he still wasn't the type to do magic for free—after all, he'd never been lying about the _cost _of magic; one of the most fundamental rules of magic was that every spell ever cast had an associated reaction of sorts, but that price was something he'd learned to manage expertly over the years. But information Rumplestiltskin could volunteer for without charge, and needed to, particularly since they were fighting a war for control of their very world.

Charming shot him a dubious look. "Are we?"

"I don't know what the Witch is using," Rumplestiltskin chose to answer the important question rather than address Charming's doubts. "Though I do have my suspicions. If I had to guess, I'd say she's using the Janus Stone."

"The what?" Bae asked.

"Legend calls it the Heart of the Ogre King, because it's most often been used to control ogres. But it can do much more, and if the Witch does have the Janus Stone, we could very well be in trouble." Much though it went against his baser nature, Rumplestiltskin intentionally included himself in his assessment of who the Witch could cause trouble for…because whether or not he liked it, this _was _his fight.

Later, he would realize that it had never once occurred to him that he might make a deal with the Witch for the safety of those he cared about, and part of Rumplestiltskin would wonder why.

"So how do we find this heart?" Charming asked.

Correcting the prince wasn't worth the effort, so Rumplestiltskin just drew a vial out of an inner pocket of his coat, channeling magic into it as he did so. The new power leapt to do his bidding far more quickly than the old darkness had, and by the time he spoke, the potion was ready, complicated though it was. "I can help with that. Do you have a map?"

One of the other soldiers handed a rolled up map to Bae immediately, who tossed it onto the only low table in the ramshackle room. Rumplestiltskin leaned over to study the map briefly as his son asked: "Will this work?"

"Well enough." Thankfully, it was a small scale map, featuring most of the Enchanted Forest as if from a great distance. A larger scale map would have been serviceable as well, but would have made the magic a little more complex. Given that the four different spells Rumplestiltskin had in mind—separate from the one he'd already put in the vial; that was just for the map, not for the locating part of this equation—were already quite convoluted enough, he was happy to use a map that removed one possible variable.

Weaving the strands together in his mind—faster than he would have thought possible a year earlier—Rumplestiltskin lifted the vial over the map, swirling it slightly to make sure that the potion came together just so. Slowly, moving from the left side of the map to the right (or to west, which was important for this magic), he poured the liquid out drop by drop. However, the potion never made it to the parchment. Instead, the liquid hovered in midair over the map, forming a bumpy line of murky blue droplets about an inch off of the parchment. He repeated the same motion moving from up to down, or north to south, until a cross of water droplets formed just over the center of the map.

A flick of his wrist banished the vial back to his pocket, and Rumplestiltskin swept his right hand, palm down, slowly over the parchment, again from east to west. The droplets disappeared as his hand moved, forming a very thin sheen that continued to over hover the map, translucent blue and glowing ever so slightly. He studied it for a moment, and then flicked his fingers downwards so that the potion settled onto the map. It hit with a sizzle, and blue smoke immediately rose off the parchment, completely obscuring the map's features. That bit of magic done, Rumplestiltskin's left hand came up to join his right, bringing with it two spells he had finished weaving. Letting out a breath, he turned that hand palm down to the map as well.

Magic tingled in all ten fingers as he completed the final two spells. Slowly, he spread his hands apart, still holding them over the parchment. Power tingled up his spine, the spells arched invisibly out of his palms—and then it was done. The blue fog sank into the map, absorbed by the parchment itself and the spells he'd cast, and the features on the map reappeared in sharper and greater detail than before, colored as vividly and realistically as a photograph.

Bae and Charming both stepped up next to him as small pockets of color started to glow on the map, ranging from pale yellow to a brighter red.

"What are those?" Charming asked quietly, gesturing at one of the thrumming red dots.

"Magic," he replied. "The darker it shows on the map, the more powerful the source. Yellow you can ignore. Orange as well. Anything red you will have to investigate. The Janus Stone is one of the oldest magical items in existence and is extremely powerful. It should show up as dark red, but it could be shielded somewhat."

"How do we tell where everything is? It's kind of hard to tell from a distance," Charming pointed out.

"Just tap the map and it will give you a closer view." Rumplestiltskin did so, tapping a random place to demonstrate. "Then tap a corner and it will return to normal."

"Damn. That's pretty cool," Bae remarked. "Just like Google maps."

Charming made an amused noise of agreement as Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes, saying dryly: "Thanks, Bae."

"No problem, Pop," was his son's cheeky response.

Meanwhile, the prince-turned-general tested his own control of the map out, tapping the area near the fort they were still sheltered in. As he did so, a dark red dot grew larger. Charming glanced over at Rumplestiltskin.

"You said this displays all sorts of magic? Does that mean objects or people? Or both?"

"And people always try to say that your wife is the brains in your relationship," Rumplestiltskin couldn't resist teasing him, and Charming grinned back. "It shows both."

Truth be told, if he'd dared key the map to only show magical objects, he would have. Tracking magical _users _or magical beings was much more difficult, but the Janus Stone was so old that it might well have acquired a personality of its own after all these years. So, Rumplestiltskin had no choice but to use the spells that would show people as well as objects, even if he didn't like the idea very much. At least the fourth spell had been a duplication spell; an identical map was now sitting in his workroom back at the Dark Castle. If he was going to work this kind of magic and leave it in others' hands, Rumplestiltskin was going to do the same for himself at the very least.

But there was really no immediate need. He'd already spotted the two bright red dots—one glowing more powerfully than the other—centered on the Forbidden Fortress, along with the one flickering orange dot headed away from the Dark Castle and in that direction. That sight told him he'd been right about where Regina was, and that Emma had already disregarded his advice to stay out of Regina and Maleficent's spat. No, the Charmings' daughter had to go play Savior again, even when she really should stay out of it. And of course she was still trying to ignore her own magic. Would she ever learn? Just thinking about Emma Swan was enough to give Rumplestiltskin a headache. Unfortunately, the girl's father was just as perceptive as she was.

"So, either there's a really powerful object nearby, or that dark red dot is you," Charming said bluntly.

He smiled thinly. "Well, it's not the Janus Stone, dearie."

Bae shot him an interesting look, but Rumplestiltskin refused to say more.

* * *

Snow wasn't surprised when the Blue Fairy came to visit, even if she did show up unannounced. The Blue Fairy didn't much like the Dark Castle, of course—when they'd taken up residence there, Blue had said that it stank of evil and was almost poisonous to one such as her—so Snow was grateful that Blue would brave the discomfort. They settled into comfortable chairs in Snow's chambers after Blue came through the window, with the fairy having put her wings away and assumed her larger form.

"I am glad to hear that the war is going better," Blue said after they'd exchanged pleasantries. "But I am…concerned to hear that Rumplestiltskin has returned."

"I agree that it's…unexpected," Snow said slowly. She'd always known that Blue and Rumplestiltskin did not get along—how could they, when he was the Dark One?—but Regina's had confirmed that Rumplestiltskin's curse had been broken, and he did seem to be trying. Even back in Storybrooke, he'd often been more willing to help than the fairies had been able to, and Snow felt they had to give him a chance. "But with his curse broken…"

She trailed off, only to watch Blue grimace. "I would not count on that mattering, child."

"Why not?" Snow blinked.

"Rumplestiltskin has been a creature of darkness for centuries. One good act—_if _it was not a trick to shield something darker—cannot erase that," the most powerful of all fairies pointed out gravely. "Whatever kind of man he was before becoming the Dark One has been forever changed by that curse. He may help you, but he will only do it on his terms. And he cannot be trusted."

"I'm not sure we have a choice," Snow replied. "We need all the help we can get. Besides, he does really seem to be trying to be better for Belle. And for Baelfire."

Blue shook her head. "Do not trust that. Darkness leaves a stain, Snow. Even if he wants to change, he may not have a choice. No one does. Not after embracing evil for so long."

"Regina's been fighting on our side for the last year, and you said _she _couldn't change." Snow wasn't sure why Blue's motherly tone was getting on her nerves, but Blue _had _said something rather like this about Regina, not long after they'd returned to the Enchanted Forest. And she'd said the same back in Storybrooke, back when Regina had initially started trying to be better. Blue had been wrong about Regina; Snow was certain of that, now. Was she also wrong about Rumplestiltskin?

Rumplestiltskin had never been so obvious or honest about his desire to be better—Regina had flat out said it, whereas Rumplestiltskin had simply looked at the message David had sent and said he'd take care of the problem. Of course, that was right on the heels of his argument with Emma about Regina being able to save herself, which had mostly consisted of Emma shouting and Rumplestiltskin calling her a fool, but that was certainly no different than anything they'd experienced before. When Snow thought about it, even back before the Curse, Rumplestiltskin had helped her and Charming more times that he hadn't. He'd actually helped them more times than Blue had…and that really was an interesting thought.

"It appears I was wrong about Regina. I hope I was, child," Blue said softly, sadly.

"Tink thinks you were." And somehow, Tink's opinion had started to matter to Snow a lot more than Blue's had. Maybe that was because Tink was fighting by her side and Blue had been gone, doing whatever she was doing.

"Tinker Bell learned a great deal during her time in Neverland," the senior fairy replied easily. "I am glad you trust her."

"So am I."

Blue sighed again. "No one is perfect, Snow, even me. And I know that you wish I were more open with you about what the fairies have been preparing. All I can promise you is that we _are _on the right side. We will do everything in our power to keep darkness from conquering the Enchanted Forest."

"I know you will." Suddenly, Snow felt horribly guilty for doubting Blue at all. "It's just… It's just been hard. That's all."

"And you are with child, which does not make things easier." Blue smiled and took Snow's hand. "Not to worry. He'll be born soon, and safely."

"He?" Snow squeaked.

"He." Another squeeze of her hand, and then without warning Blue was small again, flying above the chair she'd been seated in only moments before. "Good luck to you, Your Majesty. We will be watching you."

With that farewell, the Blue Fairy flew out the window of the Dark Castle, leaving Snow to place a hand on her stomach. She hadn't wanted to ask Tink if she was carrying a boy or a girl, and her own instincts had been less than helpful on that front. Snow hadn't really cared, so long as her child was born healthy, but she knew that David really did want a boy this time. _Come home soon, David, _she thought with a smile. _Your son wants to meet you. Soon._

* * *

"You know, I take back everything I ever said as a kid about wanting to fight ogres. They suck."

Rumplestiltskin chuckled softly. "They aren't much more fun to deal with using magic, either."

"I'm gathering that, yeah," Bae replied with a wry smile. They'd stepped outside while Charming started sending messengers to the other army outposts. It didn't give father and son much of a chance to talk as they would have liked, but at least they were away from prying eyes and curious eavesdroppers.

As they walked, Rumplestiltskin flicked his fingers, throwing magic out along their path and searching for threats—not just for ogres. If his suspicions were correct and the Witch _did _have the Janus Stone, at some point she'd discover that she could control other fell beasts and prove even more dangerous. For the moment, however, the immediate area seemed clear. Perhaps more importantly, if the Stone had been nearby, Rumplestiltskin was certain that he would have felt it. He was still growing accustomed to the depth of this new power; the feedback it provided threatened to overwhelm his senses at times. Eventually, Rumplestiltskin thought he might not need the kind of map he'd just given Charming. If he could wrap his thoughts around the power properly, the possibility existed that he could track magic and its users inside his own head. _If. _The most interesting thing about this new power as that it was trapped inside a fragile human body. He'd not really been human as the Dark One, and hadn't had the associated weaknesses of humanity, either. Now, however, Rumplestiltskin was human again, and it made the power…different.

"So." Bae stepped over a burned out tree and then stopped. Rumplestiltskin followed suit, trying not to tense as he guessed what questions were coming. "Are you gonna tell me what's going on? If your curse is broken…"

"I shouldn't have magic, I know."

He let out a breath, staring briefly into the distance before turning to meet his son's gaze. Baelfire's brown eyes, identical to his own, watched him quizzically, and not accusingly as he'd feared. Rumplestiltskin had been terrified that his son would want him to be free of magic once and for all now that the curse was broken, that Bae's childhood desire for Rumplestiltskin to go back to the way he had been would win out. But Bae seemed curious rather than angry.

"I didn't expect to," Rumplestiltskin explained after a moment. "I pointed out to Regina that I did study magic for three hundred years, and that therefore I obviously should still be able to use magic. I'm not certain she believed me. Either way, it's not the truth."

"What is?" his son asked quietly.

"I don't know where this power comes from," he answered quietly. "It's unlike anything I have experienced before. Under the curse, I had access to an almost bottomless well of darkness. This…this is an ocean of power. I've yet to find its limits. It's almost like the power was somehow masked by the Dark One's curse, narrowed down into only darkness, and then was left behind when the curse broke."

"Is it the same power?"

Rumplestiltskin shook his head. "Yes. No. Some of it is. Much of it isn't."

"That doesn't make any sense," Bae replied after a moment, making his father laugh.

"You're telling me? I assumed that living meant I would no longer be able to use magic. I spent a year being tortured by the fae thinking that, only to find out that I was so very wrong. I am no stranger to power, Bae, but this—this can be terrifying. Even to me."

"Wait a minute—you _what_? Belle didn't say anything about—"

He cut Bae off with a wave of his hand. "It doesn't matter now." He was determined that it wouldn't, anyway, and if Rumplestiltskin told himself that enough times, it would have to be true. Nevermind his own nightmares. Belle helped with those.

"Papa, I—" Baelfire looked horrified. And guilty. _Guilty?_

"You didn't know," he interrupted quickly, aghast at the idea that his son would feel guilty for not saving him. "You had no wayof knowing, Bae. No one did. I don't blame _anyone _for what happened, aside from those responsible."

Baelfire's voice was very gruff when he asked: "You said the fae. I thought they were just legends."

"Not so much as one might hope."

The words came out a little sing-songy, a little harsher than Rumplestiltskin intended. But he supposed that he only had himself to blame; speaking of it made the memories rise, made him think of a whisper in his ear, dark and _evil _magic, and a hand on the back of his neck. His hands shook slightly before he could clench them into fists, and he could feel the skin on his face grow tight as he grimaced. Looking away from his son until he could regulate his emotions, Rumplestiltskin sucked in a deep breath. He would _not _let that year rule his life, not when there were three hundred-plus other ones that had been at least more under his control, if not outright better than the one that just passed. He was alive. He had a second chance with his family. That made the pain more than worth it.

_All magic comes with a price_. He suspected that there was more than one to his, to this sweeping power he had somehow gained, and that the year he'd suffered for was a part of what he'd have to pay. No matter. He'd pay that a thousand times to see Bae and Belle again.

Bae's whisper broke through his thoughts. "You okay, Papa?"

"That's a complicated question, son," Rumplestiltskin answered, forcing himself to shrug, still staring into the trees. He wasn't, of course—Belle had finally pounded it into his head that he _shouldn't _be all right—but he needed to be. _Rumplestiltskin _had become as much a legend as the fae, even to his own allies. Strange though it was to use that term to apply to anyone, he was in this war up to his neck, and that meant he had a part to play. And yet…that thought came as an odd comfort. He'd been a loner for so long that he hardly knew how to be anything else, but something in him wanted to learn how.

"Are you going to answer it?" Bae asked.

_Not unless I have to. _His smile turned crooked. "Let's just say that I've had to do a lot of soul-searching recently, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that I still have one. A soul, I mean."

"Papa, don't."

"I know what I was, Bae," Rumplestiltskin forced himself to say honestly. Baelfire deserved to hear this from him in a way that no one else did, even Belle. "What I'm not sure about is what I am now. But I will try to be better, for your sake, and for Belle's. That's all I can promise."

"I can't ask for more than that," his son replied immediately, placing a hand on his shoulder again. Rumplestiltskin turned to look at him, a little hesitantly, and Bae smiled. "I was wrong, too. And I'm sorry I didn't give you a chance in the beginning. I was too used to running."

"You have nothing to apologize for, Bae. Nothing at all. You had every reason to run. I wasn't exactly…myself when I let you go."

And who was he now? Now Rumplestiltskin was certainly closer to that simple spinner than he'd been in over three centuries, but time had changed him as much as it had his son. A great evil no longer ruled his soul, yet he wasn't who he'd been, either. Whoever he was, he hoped it would be enough for Baelfire. His son deserved so much _better_ than what Rumplestiltskin had given him before.

"Well, now we've got a second chance, right?" Bae asked, his crooked smile matching Rumplestiltskin's. "And hell, we're even at home for it."

"I guess we do."

Suddenly, Bae's face split in to a grin. "Does this mean I have to give the castle back?"

Rumplestiltskin could only laugh.

* * *

_**A/N:**_ _Thank you all for the lovely reviews following the last chapter! Hearing from readers always makes me smile. Questions for this chapter: Do you think that Blue is right about Rumplestiltskin? Is he irrevocably stained by darkness, or will he be able to be who he wants to be? _

_Stay tuned for Chapter 11: "Counting the Cost", in which Emma and Company head towards the Forbidden Fortress, the Fae get out and about, and Snow and Rumplestiltskin have a little heart to heart. In the meantime, please let me know what you think about this chapter!_


	12. Chapter 11: Counting the Cost

_**Chapter Eleven—"Counting the Cost"**_

* * *

The journey to the Forbidden Fortress took longer than Emma would have expected. In hindsight, Emma supposed that she was just a product of the Land Without Magic; she was used to having a _car _to take her places, or better yet, an _airplane_ if the trip was long enough. But the Enchanted Forest apparently hadn't ever heard of modern conveniences like that, which meant she was stuck riding a damn _horse_. Of course, she'd been made intellectually aware of these sorry facts during her previous visit, but then she and Mary Margaret had been concentrating on getting home to Storybrooke. Now this was going to be her life, and Emma found herself thrown more than a little off balance.

Hook didn't help, not with his constant attempts to help her, charm her, or outright infuriate her. Nor did the fact that he seemed to be locked in a constant battle with _Robin Hood_ provide anything other than a ridiculous amount of amusement. Hook was determined that Emma should lead their little expedition, but Robin apparently took umbrage at that. The outlaw had pointed out that of their number _he _was the only one who'd ever actually been to the Forbidden Fortress before, and that made him more qualified. Fortunately, Robin was apparently smart enough not to make any remarks that smacked of Emma being unqualified due to her sex. She'd have knocked him on his ass if he'd done that, tough though the guy might have looked.

Having two sets of memories battling for prominence in her mind didn't exactlyl make things easier, either. One moment, she felt like the Emma who had lived in New York, who had given birth to Henry in jail but _kept _him, struggling to make a living for both of them once she got out but having no regrets. The next she was the Emma who Henry had hunted down in Boston, a woman who struggled with regrets and refused to believe in anything she couldn't touch with her own two hands. Unfortunately, it was _that _Emma who had finally come to believe in the curse, in magic, and in her own family—the more content Emma of New York had thrown all of her love into Henry and had been determined to forget that her family had abandoned her.

_Except they hadn't. They were here the whole time, and they've _always _wanted me._ The thought made pain well up, but Emma pushed it aside, instead focusing on the various aches and pains that riding the stupid horse for so long caused. Thankfully, they'd left the beasts at an inn that morning and struck out on foot, and if Emma never had to ride another horse again, it would be too soon. _I hurt in places I didn't know had muscles to hurt. Urgh._ What she wouldn't give for a few aspirin right now, but apparently modern conveniences like that didn't exist in the Enchanted Forest.

She still hadn't figured out why everyone had been in such a hurry to get back here.

"And," Robin reiterated for the umpteenth time, gesturing angrily at the barely visible path ahead of them. They were on day fifteen of their journey, and Hook and Robin were arguing _again_. "I've actually broken into the place before. I think that means I know what we should be doing."

God, Emma thought they'd finished this argument fourteen days ago. Why in the world had the boys started fighting again?

"Oh, your skills as a thief certainly qualify you to _lead _people," Hook retorted. His face was a little redder than it should have been, Emma thought distantly. Why _was _Hook so unreasonably angry about this? He only seemed determined to be difficult.

"Well, they're clearly eclipsed by your piratical talents."

Emma snorted, and Hook gave her a dirty look. "What? He's got a point. And besides, we're a grand expedition of _three_," she pointed out. Again. Was she the only one who felt like they'd had this entire conversation before? "Why do we need a leader at all? Can't we just work together?"

Hook rolled his eyes, and Robin bristled. "_I'm _not the one who keeps trying to dictate the terms of this rescue mission," the outlaw drawled. "If I'd had my way, neither of you would even be along. The Merry Men and I could have handled this fine without you."

Why oh why had she not listened to Gold when he'd told her that she'd regret trying to rescue Regina?

"Well, you're stuck with us," Emma cut in before Hook could say something that would set off another argument. Or make the current one worse. Or something. "So why don't all three of us just make the best of it and _work together_?"

"I'm not saying we shouldn't, love," Hook replied immediately, during those dark bedroom eyes of his on her. Emma bit back a groan. The man was gorgeous and utterly kissable, but did he ever turn it _off_?

"Stop it," she snapped.

Now Hook was all innocence. "Stop what? I'm not—"

"Stop breathing," Emma snapped, tested beyond patience. "No. I don't mean that. Just…_stop_." Why was her chest so tight? Breathing seemed a little…harder at the moment. Grimacing, she turned another glare on Robin and asked him the question she'd meant to pose days ago. "Why are you so intent on rescuing Regina, anyway?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Robin blinked.

"It's a simple question."

"Oh." Hook spoke up, looking a little guilty for once. Along with terribly amused. "I may have neglected to mention that our friendly outlaw here is romancing the Evil Queen."

That took a moment to sink in. At first Emma was certain that she'd heard wrong, and then once she turned the words over in her head, she just couldn't believe them. Then she finally managed to demand: "You're _what_? Aren't you supposed to be with Maid Marian or something?"

Robin grimaced, old pain crossing his handsome features and making him look much older all of a sudden. Of course Emma should have remembered that fairy tales weren't simple in the Enchanted Forest. Now she felt horrible, because she'd obviously touched on a sore subject. What kind of idiot was she? The outlaw swallowed hard before answering.

"Marian was my late wife and the mother of my son. She's been dead for three years."

"I'm sorry," Emma said softly, feeling like utter trash. _Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid_, she told herself acidly, and then tried out a lopsided smile. "So, um, you and Regina, huh?"

"Yes." Robin smiled faintly. "Roland adores her, and well, I've always been fond of…fiery women."

Emma wasn't quite sure how to respond other than: "Well, Regina certainly is that."

"That she is," Robin chuckled.

"Oh, that's more information than I needed, mate," Hook replied, and the rest of their evening passed in more companionable silence.

* * *

"So," Belle said quietly, her hands moving slowly through his hair. Rumplestiltskin's eyes were half shut as he lay on his back with his head in her lap, drowsing more than sleeping, but her next words still wormed their way through his haze of relaxed happiness. "You've been back for almost three weeks. Are you any closer to figuring out the origins of this magic?"

Rumplestiltskin sighed. He'd been busy since deciding to return to the world, first utterly revamping the defenses on the Dark Castle (after tearing down Regina's work, which took some doing without her around to help) and then dealing with a hundred other minor magical problems. Five different towns or villages had reported mysterious figures lurking in the shadows, whose arrival was followed by wild and beautiful community dances that _everyone _seemed desperate to take part in. Entire towns found themselves dancing, abandoning market days, farm plots, and even their own children. _And none of them were able to stop_. Town magistrates called for help before they, too, were sucked into the vortex of dancers, and no amount of begging, pleading, or reasoning could pry them loose.

It was a conundrum right out of the old days, when the fae frolicked freely, twisting up humans within their own sick games. Perhaps the problem would not have been so great if the Grand Alliance (as the royals insisted they call themselves) had not freed so few towns. Of the eleven "free" towns in the Enchanted Forest (not counting Francis' kingdom), five had been infected within as many days, and reports of the problems did not reach the Dark Castle until the evening of the second day. A dozen people died in Weselton before Tinker Bell called in Rumplestiltskin. Try though she had, the fairy proved unable to break the enchantment on her own, though the former Dark One had no such problems.

Freeing those five towns had taken far less effort than he anticipated, particularly given the fact that a powerful fairy had been hard put to unravel the multiple layers of fae magic surrounding the dancers. The first two times he'd done it, Rumplestiltskin had been concerned by the apparent ease and the cost of such magic, but no matter how hard he looked, he could not detect the magical reaction he was accustomed to managing. Nor could he find some sort of catch in the next three towns, only a pressing _need _to release the magic and demand nothing for it. Acting in such a manner left him acutely uncomfortable, not to mention short tempered.

"No," he half-growled. Confusing wisps of memory made him wonder, but there was nothing _concrete._ Rumplestiltskin hated not knowing things, particularly about magic, which led him to trying more and more with his new power—only to find that there truly did seem to be no bottom. There were times that using his magic felt like jumping off a cliff into water of undeterminable depth and hoping he'd float before he hit the bottom.

"Can I help?" Belle asked.

Opening his eyes to look at her, Rumplestiltskin studied her worried face. Belle was concerned because he was concerned, he knew. Left to her own devices, Belle just wanted to be happy that he was back, but Rumplestiltskin kept looking for the catch. The price. He didn't want to admit that he already knew what the latter was.

"Perhaps..." trailing off, he bit his lip. Rumplestiltskin had been trying to research this power, trying to look into what it could be, but every time he settled down in front of a book, something else came up. With Regina gone—and the fools off to find her—he and Tinker Bell were the only magic users left to the Grand Alliance. Under normal circumstances, Rumplestiltskin would have happily left the fairy to deal with their magical problems, but many of these problems were too much for her.

And he _was _trying to be better. It was easier without so much darkness inside him to reckon with, even if he had to battle three centuries' worth of behavior to do so. Helping didn't come easily to him, and his nasty habits had already caused one spat between himself and Snow White. Had Henry not wandered in, he probably would have said something regrettable, or kicked the entire alliance out of his castle and told them that they could deal for his help like anyone else, thank you very much. Thankfully, their mutual grandson had given both of them a bit of a lecture on working together, and Rumplestiltskin had been able to storm out, pride mostly intact.

Belle smiled, and he was immediately glad that he'd overcome his own desire to do everything for himself. "What can I do?"

"Research," he admitted with a scowl. "This power—_my _power—is old. Older than the curse of the Dark One, I think. And it's not…normal."

"What do you mean?"

Rumplestiltskin sat up, finding her hands running through his hair too much of a distraction to think critically. They were both on his—their—bed, curled and watching the sun set over the mountains and treasuring the few hours of privacy. Belle had spent most of that day wrangling with representatives of King Francis and King Midas, both of whom were demanding more soldiers to either secure their lands or win them back, while Snow White met with ambassadors from Agrabah. He was terribly proud of Belle's central role in the Grand Alliance, even if it did keep them apart more than Rumplestiltskin would like. Besides, Rumplestiltskin had spent every moment of the past two days up until an hour ago trying to sort out rumors of some "Forgotten Kingdom" that was supposedly created years before the curse. All he'd found had been a broken-down sorcerer inside a ruined castle, but given that the tales claimed that 'the Dark One' was in service of the Forgotten King, Rumplestiltskin had taken the rumors rather more seriously than most.

Snow White had been looking at him suspiciously since those rumors had first made it to the Dark Castle a week earlier, too, which meant Rumplestiltskin had been delighted to get away from the castle for a few days, even if it had meant separation from Belle. Next time he intended to take her along and steal some time together, even if that would make the dear Queen more certain that he was somehow playing both ends against the middle. _Not that I've never done that before._ Still, that was a problem for another day.

"There are three 'families' of magic, so to speak," Rumplestiltskin explained after a moment. "Fairy, Elemental, and Human. There are offshoots of each—like the difference between Fae magic and Fairy magic—but those are the basic categories. What we commonly consider 'magic' is really human magic. Most people just don't appreciate that there is a difference."

Belle nodded. "I remember reading something about how all human magic originally came from three sources. And elemental magic is just demons and spirits, right?"

"More or less. Before, under the curse, my magic was a unique cross between human and elemental magic. Why I don't know, but that's not relevant at the moment. Now, it's almost entirely human, with a sprinkle of something else I can't identify. But instead of that meaning less power, it means more. It makes no sense."

"You want me to see if I can find something in a book."

Rumplestiltskin smiled sheepishly. "I don't have your love of research, sweetheart." _Nor the time, not with the number of problems I find myself solving._

"Flattery will get you nowhere, you know." But Belle smiled beautifully.

"Will it not?" His grin turned wicked as Rumplestiltskin resolved to leave those problems for another day. "Shall I bribe you, then?"

She turned her nose up at him playfully. "I thought you were above such things."

"Ha. No one is going to confuse _me _with a good sorcerer any time soon. I'm simply selfish," he retorted, dropping a kiss on her neck.

"Selfish?" Belle inquired, but she was already starting to sound distracted as he worked his way downwards.

"Of course. I can't very well go haring off on my own while you and Bae join the Grand Alliance. I'd have to drag you along with me, and then you'd _complain_, and then where would I be?"

"Where indeed," she murmured, but whatever else he'd been planning to say was cut off by her kiss. The kiss was soft, promising more, but power still raced through him, lighting off his senses like a bolt of lightning. The magic of the kiss was somewhat muted—there was no need for it to break curses or banish darkness—yet True Love still lurked behind the kiss, powerful and potent. It gave him strength in ways completely unrelated to magic. _Belle _gave him strength.

If Rumplestiltskin ever regretted breaking his own curse, moments like this made him forget that.

* * *

"Why do you think you're so damn smart?" Robin demanded of Hook on the seventeenth day of their journey. They had to be getting close to the Forbidden Fortress by now, but all Emma could see were trees, and the air was uncomfortably stuffy.

"Probably because I am."

"You certainly don't act like it," the outlaw replied with another eye roll. Maybe adults in the Enchanted Forest never told their children that their eyes would get stuck if they did that too often, or maybe Robin's childhood had been as haphazard as Emma's.

"Oh, and you do?" Hook snarled.

"At least I'm not making eyes at a woman who won't have me in a million years," Robin retorted loftily.

"Will she not? I'll have you know that last night, Miss Swan and I—"

"Hook!" Emma cut him off with a shout. What, was he going to _brag_ about the moments they'd shared in the dark? His leering grin made her feel like nothing more than a conquest. She had been _lonely _the night before, emotionally run down and needing someone in ways she hadn't in years. Emma had trusted Hook to hold her, and now he was making it sound like they'd done far more than kiss and cuddle.

The pirate was damn lucky that she'd didn't use her sword to carve that smug look right off of his face, and if it hadn't been replaced by a more contrite expression, she might have anyway. Emma wheeled on the two men, absolutely fed up with their arguing.

"I have had _enough!_" she snarled, and then overrode both sets of objections. "I am _not _going to take any part in whatever pissing contest you two are determined to have. So, whatever problems you've got, get the hell over them. We're here to rescue Regina, and if you can't handle that, I swear to God that I'll leave you both tied to trees and do it myself."

Both Hook and Robin looked slightly stunned, but finally the pirate shrugged. "She'll do it, mate. She's left me tied up or chained up…well, more than once."

"I really didn't need to know about that aspect of your relationship, Captain," Robin choked out.

* * *

"Why did you insist that rescuing Regina was a fool's errand?" Snow asked seventeen days after the trio set off rescue Regina. The queen strode into the Great Hall unhappily, tablet in hand, and her scowl only grew deeper when she spotted Rumplestiltskin sitting at the head of the long table.

Belle, who had been reading in the chair to his left, suppressed a smile. Rumplestiltskin was never going to shut up about this one; he'd been exactly right about Snow wanting to have a little chat, and had even known _when _it was going to happen down to the hour. Ever the showman, he'd insisted on coming down to the hall for this discussion, and now he sat casually, his long fingers forming a steeple under his chin. Watching him out of the corner of her right eye, Belle could almost see the old sparkling skin and black claws, and she could definitely see the old Rumplestiltskin lingering in his smile.

"Because it is, dearie," he replied easily, and Belle resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Yes, Rumplestiltskin was entitled to a little bit of fun, but sometimes he really was a bit much. "Regina can take care of herself."

"According to Robin, he, Emma, and Hook should be at the Forbidden Fortress by nightfall," Snow replied, resting her other hand on her very pregnant belly. She stopped next to a chair and dropped the tablet on the table, but made no move to sit down.

"Good for them." Rumplestiltskin shrugged, and then twirled his right hand airily. "So why in the world are you bringing this to me? Is there a complaint you would like to register?"

Snow blinked, but it was the heavy silence that followed Rumplestiltskin's sarcastic question that finally made Belle close her book. She glanced at Rumplestiltskin again, but his face was hard to read, politely attentive at best and devious at worst. He must have felt her eyes on him, but he ignored Belle entirely, keeping his gaze on Snow and waiting to hear whatever it was that was bothering the queen. Finally, Snow got straight to the point:

"I'm not sure we can trust you," she said, looking unhappy.

A crooked smile crossed Rumplestiltskin's face. He sounded amused. "Is that all?"

"Rumple," Belle admonished him softly, and his eyes finally flicked to her, still unreadable.

"Isn't that enough?" Snow asked.

"Unless I'm mistaken, dearie, you've never trusted me."

"Is there a specific problem that's bothering you?" Belle got in before Snow could respond to that.

Snow sighed, turning to look at Belle and suddenly appearing very tired. The two of them had become close colleagues over the last year, and maybe even friends of a sort, but Belle had never truly felt close to the young queen. Perhaps the distance between them was a legacy of Storybrooke, where the Charmings had worked with Rumplestiltskin but never fully trusted or understood him. Belle's love for him had always tainted her a little in their eyes, but at least they thought she was more dependable than her ever-whimsical lover.

"I've been talking to the Blue Fairy," the queen replied after a moment's hesitation. "She is…doubtful."

Rumplestiltskin snorted. "Surprise, surprise."

"About what?" Belle asked, reaching out to grab his hand and stop him from saying anything else obnoxious. She shot him a hard look when he started to tug away, and was happy to see him relent. He trusted her, even when he someone started to get on his nerves.

Mentions of the Blue Fairy's meddling tended to do that, Belle knew, but she managed not to let her feelings show on her own face. She was biased, of course. Too long spent with Rumplestiltskin. But that didn't make her wrong.

"Blue is concerned that you're playing another game," Snow said, looking directly at Rumplestiltskin again. "That even…_if _your curse is broken, you're still, um, tainted."

"By darkness, you mean. Or evil, if you prefer." At least he wasn't laughing, though Belle could feel his tension through the hand she still held. "And I suppose that you're going to take her word over mine."

"She's always helped us."

"Ah, yes. She's always told you the truth then, also. Particularly that bit about that lovely enchanted wardrobe only having the ability to take _one _person through to the Land Without Magic."

Snow's eyes widened, and she could not have jerked back faster if Rumplestiltskin had struck her. Belle could have heard a pin drop in the great hall, and wasn't certain that the temperature in the room hadn't dropped ten degrees or so. Yet the point wasn't something that Snow could argue against; even Belle knew that the Blue Fairy had outright _lied_ to Snow and David about that, so many years ago. Because of her, Emma had grown up without parents, and although the Dark Curse had been broken, Belle knew Snow well enough to know that it still bothered her. And judging from the stricken look on Snow's face, the knowledge still hurt.

"That's not the point here," the queen tried to say valiantly.

"Then what is?" Rumplestiltskin countered, his eyes flashing. "I've given you no reason not to trust me. I would also remind you that you're in _my _castle at the moment, a fact that seems to escape you from time to time, but wouldn't be the case if I were still the Dark One. My curse _is_ broken, and much though it sometimes pains me to say it, I am on your side."

"Then where do your powers come from?" Snow demanded.

"That's my concern."

"You can't expect us to trust you if you won't trust us."

It was a good point, and judging from the slight smile that touched Rumplestiltskin's face, he knew it. He always appreciated a clever opponent, after all. Belle watched him carefully, squeezing his hand gently and wondering what he was going to say. Of course, he'd never admit to Snow that he still had no idea where this power came from. Rumplestiltskin would rather appear to be evil than weak, Belle knew, and she didn't have to like that about him to understand it. He wasn't well suited to playing the hero's role, Rumplestiltskin had told her many times. He wasn't even terribly _inclined _to offer help without counting the cost, even if his magic would allow him to do just that for reasons neither of them could understand. But he was trying, for her sake and for Bae's, because this war was important to them.

And there was another reason, one he didn't talk about because Belle didn't need him to. Rumplestiltskin still bore a deep-seated fury towards those who had hurt him for the past year, and unlike the others, he was absolutely convinced that the fae were somehow linked to the Witch. Once, just once, he had told Belle about the powerful fae who had held him prisoner. _"I know a manipulator when I see one," Rumplestiltskin had told her. "And if she's not behind the Witch, _I'm _Glinda the Good."_ Belle had laughed at the comparison, but she wasn't going to bet against Rumplestiltskin's instincts. Not on this.

Now Rumplestiltskin sighed. "Fair enough," he said after a moment, his eyes flicking briefly to meet Belle's. "Let's just say that the power was always there. It was somewhat…restricted by my former curse, but the magic I have now is much the same that I always have had."

Belle managed not to grimace a little. The answer wasn't a lie; it was a typically carefully-worded response, truthful to the letter but only telling as much of the story as Rumplestiltskin was interested in sharing. Of course, in this case, he didn't know the entire story himself, but Belle still wished he could be more honest with Snow.

Snow frowned. "But you said your curse is broken."

"I did. And it is. Despite what your friend Ruel Gorm might tell you, 'Your Highness,' I am completely human." A dark smile tugged at his lips, and Belle saw memories flashing in Rumplestiltskin's eyes. "If I weren't, you'd be in trouble, because _I _don't have the dagger."

"_What?" _

Rumplestiltskin sat back, his body language intentionally casual, and he shrugged. "The Fae have it, I presume. But it was blank by the time I arrived in the Enchanted Forest, and the dagger can no longer control me, so you're quite safe."

"There's nothing that can now, is there?" No one could ever claim that Snow White was slow on the uptake, and her sharp eyes were wary.

"Indeed there is not." Rumplestiltskin's smile was lazy, but Belle could feel his burning anger at the fact that Snow seemed to think that he _required _controlling. So, she spoke up before he could make things worse.

"You should be grateful for that," Belle pointed out bluntly, making Snow blink.

"I didn't say—"

"You didn't have to. Snow, I understand that you want to trust the Blue Fairy, but her goals are not the same as ours. As you and David went to great pains to point out in Storybrooke, you are _family _through Henry. You accepted Bae and I based on that. Why won't you accept Rumplestiltskin?"

Her plea worked better than any of Rumplestiltskin's hard-edged sarcasm would have, and the pinched look on Snow's face softened. "I _want _to," the queen replied. "Everything is just…"

"What do your instincts tell you?" Belle asked, looking at the other woman's torn expression. She knew the answer already, but Snow needed to admit it for herself.

"That you're telling the truth." To Snow's credit, she met Rumplestiltskin's eyes squarely. "Just please tell me that you didn't leave Regina to rot in order to make us need you."

Unoffended, Rumplestiltskin laughed. "Now why would I do that?" he asked, rolling his eyes. "Do I really look like I enjoy running around putting out every magical fire you people can come up with?"

Knowing how much her love _hated _doing just that, Belle was unable to hold back her own snort of laughter.

"I suppose not," Snow allowed. "I just…worry for her. Maleficent—"

"Dearie, the day Regina can't handle Maleficent is the day I stop spinning straw into gold," Rumplestiltskin cut her off. "She's defeated her before. _Regina_ will be fine."

* * *

"I told you to _get in line!_" Regina snarled, dodging yet another fireball—and flinging one of her own in return, of course.

"I was your _friend_!" Maleficent retorted, a wild wind of magic whipping around both of them.

They'd been at this for days, now, maybe even a week. It was amazing how time seemed to speed up when you were locked in a pitched magical battle. Last time, Regina had caught Maleficent by surprise and defeated her handily, but this time she'd woken up in a carefully warded cell that took far too long to break out of. And by the time she had, of course her old friend had been waiting, which had kicked off this glorious fight. Under other circumstances, Regina might have been impatient and frustrated, but Maleficent really had figured out a few new tricks while she'd been locked up as a dragon in Storybrooke, which kept things interesting. Maleficent's excuse was that she'd had nothing to do but contemplate revenge for twenty-eight years, and well, it did make the fallen fairy creative.

"And you would have done the same!" Regina retorted, sending a freezing ball of magic spiraling towards her opponent.

"Not a chance! I wouldn't have been so stupid as to leave myself without a _single friend in the world._" Maleficent let the ball of ice hit her, and shrugged it right off. This was the first meaningful conversation they'd had, however, and responding slowed Maleficent's next attack. A little. "Who did you leave yourself with, _Rumplestiltskin_? How brilliant! He double crosses people for _fun!_"

Despite herself, Regina flinched. "I didn't _want _friends!"

"No, you wanted to depend on your old mentor, because your relationship with him has always been _ever _so healthy."

Two fireballs met between them, creating a gorgeous shower of sparks. Hot ash rained down on Regina, making her wince, hurriedly casting some magic to keep it from burning her or ruining the dress she was wearing. She _liked _this dress. It wasn't her fault that Maleficent had horrible fashion sense and liked to destroy other peoples' clothing. But then she found herself laughing. Maybe Maleficent had been right. She'd been without a friend for too long, and what were friends for if not to throw fireballs at one another with? Regina threw another spell at the fallen fairy, but her heart wasn't in it, and it went wide of the mark.

"It's worse now," she said wryly, shaking her head. "Now we're _family._"

"You're _what_?" Maleficent's eyes went wide, and the attack she'd been brewing up dissipated. "You're not saying that your mother lied about—"

"No!" The very thought made Regina feel a little sick. She knew about her mother and Rumplestiltskin, of course, but she didn't want to _think _about that. Frantically, she regained her composure. "No, I mean Henry. My adopted son. It turns out that Rumplestiltskin's son wound up in the Land Without Magic a long time ago, and he got with the Charmings' daughter…you can picture the rest of the nauseating mess."

Maleficent's staff drooped as she blinked in surprise. "Rumplestiltskin has a son?"

"I know. Who would have thought?" Regina shrugged, watching her friend's eyes widen. "But he's my son's father."

"There is _no way _he didn't do that on purpose."

* * *

Day eighteen.

"Didn't we walk past that tree this morning?" Emma asked, her head pounding and her chest tight.

"No. My compass says we're still heading northeast," Hook replied, studying the object in his hand.

"Then your compass is broken, pirate," Robin said acidly. "Because we definitely passed that tree this morning. And yesterday, I think."

"No, we passed trees _like _that one," Hook retorted. "It's a forest. Trees look alike. Or did you miss that in outlaw school?"

"Which one of us is the woodsman here?"

"Obviously not you."

"Look, can you two just _stop_?" Emma demanded for what felt like the hundredth time. And maybe it was.

Neither listened, of course. They just continued sniping at one another and making Emma's headache even worse. Even when she shouted at them, all it started was a three way argument, with Robin claiming that she didn't want Regina found, Hook calling Robin a fool whose tracking skills compared with those of a cow, and Emma torn between kissing and strangling the pirate. At one point, she tried to do both at the same time, which made for some interesting noises.

Robin pulled them apart, which earned him a punch from Hook. Unfortunately, Robin had two hands and apparently knew how to use both in a fight, which ended in some rather colorful bruises on Hook's pretty face. That, however, earned _Robin _a slice to the ribs from Hook's hook. Emma pulled _them _apart, and patched up Robin's wound before she could start a fight with him. It didn't help when he slapped her hands away, snarling that she had no idea what she was doing and she'd best keep her ignorance to herself.

"Hold on," Hook put in as Emma flounced—why was she _flouncing_?—away from Robin in a huff, again contemplating the handsome pirate and how lonely she was. "Perhaps it's just me, but are either of you feeling a bit…off?"

"I'm angry," Robin snapped. "That's not 'off.' That means I'm sick and tired of tramping around the forest with two fools. This is hardly a new emotion for me. It's merely common sense."

"No, really, I think—"

Emma was really sick of hearing this, so she cut him off with a kiss. Hook returned it with interest until he pulled away with obvious regrets. "Emma…not that I'm objecting to your advances, darling, but now is hardly the time. I'm beginning to think that something is terribly wrong here. None of us are acting quite ourselves."

Her chest was still unbearably tight, and kissing Hook seemed to make that feel better. Even if it also made her think of Neal, for some obscure reason. But her head was still pounding, and concentrating on the words Hook was saying took an enormous effort. Why couldn't she _think?_ Hook had a point. This wasn't her. This was…well, Emma didn't know what it was. Grimacing, she sucked in a deep breath, trying to clear her mind. She tried to focus her mind the way Regina had taught her, tried to clear out the extraneous thoughts and just _feel._ Doing so took several long moments, but there was something on the edge of her consciousness, something she couldn't quite reach…

"I think Hook's right," she told Robin tightly, drums clanging between her ears. "Something's wrong."

* * *

_**A/N:**_ _Thank you to all the wonderful reviewers out there. You guys really are making me feel better about my first foray into the OUAT fandom! I'm a pretty typical author in that reviews = motivation, and you all have been absolutely fantastic about helping me punch this story out. I'm hoping to finish it before March 9__th__, which will be a real push since we're probably looking at 30 chapters or so for the endgame. However, I finished chapter 15 yesterday, so we'll see if I can pull it off!_

_Questions for this chapter: 1) Do you think Regina and Maleficent will work out their differences? 2) What in the world do you think has happened to Emma, Hook, and Robin? And finally 3) What do you think the fae are up to behind the scenes?_

_Stay tuned for Chapter 12: "Walking in Circles" in which our rescuers try to get to the Forbidden Fortress once and for all, Baelfire commands a rescue mission, and Rapunzel shows up. In the meantime, please let me know what you think!_


	13. Chapter 12: Walking in Circles

_**Chapter Twelve—"Walking in Circles"**_

* * *

"What do you think?" Bae asked his father, who shrugged diffidently.

"You're the one with the soldiers. I'm just along for the ride."

Rolling his eyes, Bae looked at his father's droll smile and decided that he was just being annoying on purpose. Rumplestiltskin had returned to the Dark Castle the same night he'd disposed of the ogres nineteen days ago, but Bae had called him back when he'd discovered this interesting little enclave owned by the Witch. The map his father had created had led them to it, and while David led one force of soldiers to investigate a possible hiding place for the Janus Stone, Bae brought a smaller group here. The dot on the map hadn't been as bright as some of the others, but the location—inside King Stefan's old castle—had been interesting, so Bae had taken the cavalry to check it out.

What he'd found had been what amounted to a prison camp, and a nasty one at that. Some of his younger officers, particularly Prince Philip, who had just joined up with him the day before they left—wanted to storm the place immediately, but Baelfire was too experienced at _setting _traps to go that road. Even when Philip argued vehemently that he knew this castle—apparently it belonged to the family of his True Love, and was supposed to be deserted—Bae refused to rush in. No, he'd rather check the place out first, and try to figure out what kind of snares were hiding in the shadows. Because there was absolutely no way that this was anything other than a giant death trap.

That, of course, was why he'd called his father in. Non-magical traps Bae could unravel with the best of them, but if the Witch had set this one up to be the kind of ambush he thought it was, Bae wanted magical help. Even had Regina been available, he wouldn't have bothered asking for her. Regina was the smash-and-grab sort. His dad was much more subtle.

"What 'ride'?" he retorted now. "I've never seen you touch a horse."

Rumplestiltskin snorted. "With good reason."

"Do you even know how to ride?"

"Why should I bother? I can take myself anywhere with magic far faster than a horse or coach could ever manage." His father gave him that look again, the one that made Bae feel about ten and like he'd asked something stupid. But there wasn't any malice in the look, and a smile lurked in Rumplestiltskin's eyes.

Bae was pretty sure that it was damn good for his dad to get out of the Dark Castle, and he knew Belle agreed. He could only spend so long holed up in that tower of his, working magic and making everyone else uneasy. No one really knew what to do with him yet, even with Regina missing. He'd helped where required, but other than that stayed away from the others like they had the plague. Rumplestiltskin probably wouldn't like the fact that his son and Belle were conspiring behind his back, but when he found out about it—hoping he wouldn't find out was a fool's hope—he'd manage.

"So, do you have to get closer to figure out what kind of magical traps the Witch has left behind, or can you tell from here?" Bae asked.

'Here' was a cliff top about a mile southwest of the castle proper. Bae and his scouts had ventured closer the day before, but the best concealment was behind the cliff, and he did have about a hundred men to hide. There were more guards than that—an interesting statement in itself—but the force Bae had brought had been handpicked out of the best the army had to offer. They were troublemakers, for the most part, clever and crafty, and not always the type you'd trust to hold your drink in a bar. But every last one of them was angry at the Witch and wanted their homes back, which meant they'd follow Baelfire as long as the war lasted.

Rumplestiltskin gave him a mock-insulted look. "Who do you think I am, Regina?"

Bae snickered. "No, she's a lot better looking than you."

"_Really, _Bae? I'm slightly nauseated by that remark. I think you just took years off my life," his father replied, grimacing. The pained look on Rumplestiltskin's face only made Bae laugh harder. But the next words definitely proved to be a buzz kill: "She could have been your sister, you know."

"Argh! That was a mental image I didn't need, Papa. Bad enough that she's Henry's adopted mom and step-great grandmother all at the same time. Can you imagine how twisted this would be if she was his _aunt, _too?"

His father's face twisted up in an ironic smile, leaving Bae to ask plaintively, his voice suddenly small: "She isn't, is she?"

"_No._"

"Thank God," Bae breathed, swallowing back the image of his father and Regina's mother. _Oh, eww. Just…oh, that's wrong._ He'd never really met Cora, but everything Bae knew about her indicated that the woman had been more than a little crazy with power. _This is definitely time to be grateful that Pop has decided that sweet and stubborn is more his type of woman than dark and dangerous. _He cleared his throat and tried to ask normally: "So. What kind of traps did you find?"

"Several layers of concealment lie on the north tower. It looks like the easiest route in, but that wall isn't actually crumbling. If you try to climb it, you'll find some nasty surprises." Rumplestiltskin pointed, and Bae frowned. He _had _meant to sneak in that way. So much for that idea.

"What else?"

"The usual. There seems to be a pack of enchanted wolves—or possibly bears; the spell is very similar—waiting in the tunnels underneath the castle. The garden to the east is also enchanted to ensnare anyone passing through it with poisonous thorns. Oh, and a handful of wards designed to kill, disfigure, or transform you if you step through them. Most of those seem designed to turn you into flying monkeys, though."

Bae turned to stare at his father, unable to tell from the dry tone if he was joking or not. "Really?"

"Indeed. An elegantly wicked solution to the problem of what to do with your enemies."

There were times that his father's detachment made Bae's stomach roll, and this was almost one of them. Then a second thought occurred to him, and Bae _did _feel sick. "Do you mean that the flying monkeys we've been killing were once _people_?"

"Probably." His father didn't even blink, and if Bae hadn't known that Rumplestiltskin _had _actually made an effort over the last few years not to kill people, he would have been a lot more bothered. That, and Bae wasn't exactly an innocent himself. He'd killed—even before joining this war—and he now commanded soldiers whose very job it was to slay the enemy. Plenty of blood coated his hands, directly and indirectly.

"Damn," Bae breathed, swallowing. Killing soldiers was one thing—the few humans fighting on the Witch's side seemed to have had made the choice to be there—but killing people who had been forcibly transformed into animals was yet another.

David was going to have kittens when he heard that one.

"It's all a big trap, then, huh?" That was the only thing that made sense.

Rumplestiltskin nodded. "Undoubtedly."

At least he didn't have to explain his reasoning, which was nice. Bae had grown used to seeing things that others didn't, noticing traps in seemingly normal situations and spotting trouble before it hit. Some of the soldiers called it _his _magical talent, and though Bae knew they were joking. It was just how his mind worked: crookedly, so to speak. Baelfire didn't approach problems in conventional ways, and he didn't think in straight lines, either. Thankfully, he'd inherited those traits from the man standing next to him, which meant that Rumplestiltskin understood.

"Can you dismantle that magic?" Bae asked, studying the castle. They'd have to take the front way in, straight up the drawbridge and in through the gates. The only other ways were through the tunnels, which were full of creatures; through the gardens that were enchanted to stick them with poisonous thorns; or through the not-as-damaged-as-it-looked north tower.

"Not from here, but yes." His father's gaze followed his, and Rumplestiltskin wore a matching thoughtful frown. "I can keep the drawbridge down and the gates open for you, as well. Assuming you want to use the front gate."

"I don't think we have a choice." Damn it all. This battle was going to _suck. _At least they'd have the element of surprise. After all, what intelligent enemy would expect them to be stupid enough to come straight in the front door?

* * *

By noon on the nineteenth day, even the stubborn outlaw had to admit they were travelling in circles. Earlier, Emma had suggested marking one of the trees that they were _certain _they'd seen before, and Killian had cheerfully dug his sharpest appendage into the oak, scaring it quite remarkably. He'd been halfway tempted to try to draw an ugly face in the tree and name it Robin Hood, but common sense had—sadly—won out. Killian wasn't sure where this utterly unreasonable anger of his came from, but he was beginning to realize that it wasn't natural.

In fact, Killian was starting to think that there was absolutely nothing natural about this situation. He and Robin didn't seem able to stop trying to one-up one another, and Emma was uncommonly lustful and moody—not that he minded the lustful, but Killian preferred to win her over honorably, not because something in the air made Emma desire him. And Killian really _didn't _have much of a problem with Robin Hood, and rather liked Regina (in an odd way) enough that he wished her every happiness with the outlaw. If Robin was made of smart and strong enough stuff to keep up with the Evil Queen, he was welcome to her…which meant that Killian's extremely strong feelings of jealousy towards the outlaw were severely misplaced.

He still wasn't prepared to admit that Robin knew more about tracking than he did, or that Robin should be in charge of their little mission, but those concerns seemed rather mundane when he considered them in a more mature light. Of course, the fact that that 'more mature light' had been provided via a sharp blow to the head didn't do much to temper his fury; Robin had hit him hard enough to send Killian sprawling, and then Emma had threatened to kill Robin. She still was, actually, shouting loud enough to wake the dead.

His ears were _ringing_, but Killian felt more like himself than he had in days.

"Oh. _Oh. _My friends, I think we're in a bit more trouble than we thought—"

"Shut up, pirate," Robin snarled.

"No. You really want to listen to me this time, before I start _sharing _your mutual desire for murder again. Both of you." He struggled to his feet, wanting to cradle his head in his hand, and really wishing he could stick his hook in _something _that needed killing. "There's obviously some magic at work here. Emma's been more resistant to it than either you or I—probably because of the magic she has—but there is some kind of force manipulating us."

The outlaw hadn't tried to hit him again, yet, so perhaps his words were getting through. Killian continued desperately, trying out outrun his own anger as much as the others'. Pointing at himself and Robin, he explained:

"You and I are furiously envious of one another, why I do not know. Emma is alternatively lustful and furious"—she looked offended, so he shrugged—"sorry, love. And all three of us are becoming increasingly unreasonable as time passes. We _know _we are walking in circles, yet we've done nothing about that. In fact, I think this is the second time we've realized something is manipulating us. Am I the only one sick of playing this game?"

"I am not _lustful_," Emma snarled as Robin sank down to sit on a tree, cradling his head in his hands.

"Hook's right," the outlaw mumbled. "My head is killing me, and I want to shoot someone."

"How about yourself?" Killian's mouth asked before he could stop it. "Gah—ignore me. That's the magic talking. I think."

_I hope._ _Did I want to kill him this much the last time we were in the same place for more than a few hours?_ Killian wasn't sure he'd ever spent more than a few hours with Regina's pet outlaw. _Regina. Damn._ He'd almost forgotten what they were there for in the first place, and how Emma's son would never forgive any of them if Regina was killed. _Emma._ He repeated her name in his head. _I'm doing this for Emma. Not to prove that I'm the best man._ Judging from Emma's attraction to him, Killian already knew who her choice would be, so why was he fighting so hard to impress her? Robin didn't look remotely like Baelfire, anyway.

"All I know is that I'm going to kill you both if we don't stop walking in circles," Emma ground out. "So get up, and let's get moving. And don't look at me like that, Hook. I'm not kissing you again."

"I have a name, love," he protested, fighting the urge to stab Robin. Again.

"Yeah, well, so do I," she shot back.

* * *

As a rule, Rumplestiltskin wasn't much of a team player. He wasn't much inclined towards _combat_, either, even of the magical variety. He much preferred to be a spider, sitting at the center of a web and manipulating others until his ends were accomplished. Oh, he'd dispatched various magical creatures over the years, and even dealt with the odd quester or twelve (with or without their closest friends acting as backup), but he'd never really been inclined to waltz about in the middle of a battle. Indulging in that kind of foolishness was clearly reserved for the hero types, of which he was most assuredly _not._

His son, however, apparently had the makings of a hero type. Baelfire was admittedly more sensible than most of the others—although Rumplestiltskin had to grant that distinction to Charming as well, at least when the prince didn't let his own overdeveloped sense of honor get in the way—but he was still quickly turning into the brave, battle-winning type of general who princesses swooned over. _Not that the princess Bae is interested in is much the swooning type, _he thought with a thin smile. But it was only a side thought. The bulk of his concentration was on the spells he was busy dismantling, with what was leftover of his attention riveted on the battle playing out.

The defenders were certainly well prepared. But why wouldn't they be when they'd expected someone to walk into their trap? Bae's cavalry charge came down the hill an hour before sunset, mostly hidden in the long shadows cast by the cliff behind them. The horsemen were halfway to the castle before the defenders even had a chance to react, and by then, Rumplestiltskin had appeared inside their defensive envelope of magic and was wreaking havoc. First to go were the outer wards, the simple ones, the defenses designed to turn away attackers by frightening people and horses both. Next went the lines of fire that could crop up with the wave of a general's hand; he took those out with a flick of his fingers, suppressing the magic when it tried to rise again and snuffing it out. Not for the first time, he found manipulating such power ridiculously easy, as was turning the price of such magic against the next line of wards. The fire itself burned those out, quickly and efficiently, blue flames dancing in midair.

Those flames illuminated his silhouette, however. To the defenders, Rumplestiltskin appeared merely as a lone man standing just to the right of the drawbridge, with hands that glowed of magic. The archers fired on him, of course—they'd have been fools not to—but Rumplestiltskin vanished in a puff of golden smoke and reappeared on the other side of the drawbridge, still inside their magical lines. _Close, but not close enough, dearies._ Despite the seriousness of the situation, he smiled.

Bae and his fighters were very close now; flying monkeys soared out to meet them, only to have half their number felled by Bae's archers, who had followed the horsemen down the hill at a more sedate and hard to notice pace. Meanwhile, Rumplestiltskin found the thread he was looking for and _pulled_, unravelling the green woven threads of the most insidious spell the Witch had used here. It hovered over the castle itself, designed to drop once Bae and his people were inside, but why wait until later? No Witch was going to make a flying monkey out of his son.

Not today. Rumplestiltskin vanished and reappeared twenty feet to the east before another volley of arrows could reach him, and then snuck a glance at Baelfire. Sword in hand, Bae was taking on two monkeys and winning, all the while encouraging his fighters forward. He didn't shout foolish inspirational phrases, and his soldiers didn't seem to expect them; no, Bae's orders were quick and simple, and got the point across. Watching him made Rumplestiltskin unspeakably proud. Bae had chosen to make something out of himself that his father would never have expected, but he was doing _well._ The two monkeys didn't stand a chance against him, and neither did the singleton that followed them. Soon enough, Bae was back at the front of the cavalry, taking a moment to reform his lines to meet the defenders properly.

"Let's go!" Bae shouted, and the horsemen charged forward.

That was his cue. Immediately, the drawbridge started rising; the Witch hadn't chosen a fool to command her trap at this castle, and whoever it was might or might not know that their most important spell no longer existed. Either way, they weren't going to make taking the castle _too _easy, and they undoubtedly meant to catch Baelfire and his people inside the courtyard. That meant making a good faith effort at pulling the drawbridge up, and then keeping every gate leading out of the courtyard shut. There the spell would either turn Bae and the others into obedient flying monkeys or the defenders could easily slay them from defensive positions on the inner walls; either way, the trap would snap shut and leave the Witch with fewer enemies.

Except for the fact that Rumplestiltskin could appear just as easily inside the castle as outside it. Oh, there were wards to keep him from doing so, of course, but he didn't bother to dismantle those. He just cut his magic through them like a knife through soft butter, and transported himself to a convenient spot next to the officer in charge of raising the drawbridge.

"Hello, dearie."

The unfortunate soldier stared at him, his hands freezing on the wheel that controlled the drawbridge. It was the last thing he ever did, but when Rumplestiltskin would once have laughed as he killed the man, he didn't now. He wasn't the type to regret such a necessary action, but he no longer felt the need to revel in it. Not when the imp wasn't cackling in the back of his mind, always demanding something greater and darker than the time before. Now Rumplestiltskin's right hand just came up, entered the man's chest without preamble, and tore his heart out.

It was dust before the body hit the ground. A surge of darkness filled Rumplestiltskin, but this wasn't his old darkness. This was the same power that could awe him, the power that came so quickly when called that it still took his breath away. He'd shied away from using such singularly dark magic as this so far, somewhat afraid that doing so would send him spiraling back down the path towards his curse. And yet—it felt no different. This was simply dark magic, costly and dangerous, but no different than anyone else could use, save in its scope. Intellectually, Rumplestiltskin had known it would not be different. He'd simply been afraid he was wrong.

Darkness and light in equal measure, then. His power had a balance, and using dark magic would not disrupt that. Something flickered at the edges of his memory, an image of a man with a staff, standing on a hilltop against—Rumplestiltskin shook his head to clear it. Did he recognize the sword the man was wearing? _Not now!_

There was no time for that, or even for relief, not when Bae and the others were so close to the gates. A flick of his left hand sent the drawbridge back down, and a touch of magic locked the wheel in place so that no one would be able to move it. The inside defenders were already taking their up positions, ready to pour arrows and boiling oil down on the intruders if the magic did not—

Oh. That was interesting. Someone nearby had picked up the threads of the monkey-creating enchantment, attempting to reweave it. The power was different than his, thorny and slippery and…_fae._ The realization threw a shiver up his spine.

_Hands and voices, pain and—_

No. He wouldn't do that now. That power wasn't _hers_, wasn't the overpowering darkness that had once drowned him. No, this he could overcome, and easily. His right hand came up quickly, closing on threads only Rumplestiltskin could see, and he tugged. The woven mess collapsed down around the castle once more, but this time he poured power into it and the threads separated, disintegrating into pure magic. Quickly, lest the magic escape and cause unexpected results, he redirected it, shaping the transformation spell into a heavy command to _sleep_, and letting it fall on the defenders on the walls.

Was one of them the unknown magic user? There was no way to know until they tried to use magic again. Meanwhile, his new spell dropped onto the men perched on the courtyards inner walls, and they collapsed as if run over by a wave, crumbling into unconsciousness one by one. There were still others in the courtyard itself, but the spell had been limited in scope by the power he had twisted into creating it. Unfortunately, his abrupt actions meant they were now aware of his presence and Rumplestiltskin had to vanish again as a trio of swordsmen rushed towards him. He was _not_ turning into some swashbuckling hero. That was Bae's job.

His timing had been perfect; had Rumplestiltskin lingered any longer, he might have been run over by his own son's horse. By the time he appeared near one of the inner gates, Baelfire's cavalry was pouring into the courtyard, and swords clashed against one another as they fought the remaining defenders. The odds were slightly in Baelfire's favor, so Rumplestiltskin turned his attention to opening the three gates that led out of the courtyard and into the castle proper. They were closed physically but not magically, which meant sending each of the three racing open was no hardship.

Striding over to the second one—and avoiding two swordsmen dueling around a dying horse, Rumplestiltskin laid his hand against the cold metal and concentrated.

The shouting and screaming of the battle made that difficult to do.

"Look out!" Someone screamed.

"To the right!" That was Bae. "Get the archers to the right!"

A quartet of arrows shot through the air. Several voices swore; someone cried out in pain. Magic rushed out of Rumplestiltskin's fingers, filling his mind with—

_Twang._

Instinct told him to move; or was that his magic helping out? Either way, Rumplestiltskin vanished _again _just in time for a crossbow bolt to drive its way into the very gate he'd been standing next to.

Wheeling after he appeared three feet to the right of where he'd been, Rumplestiltskin's left hand shot up, almost on its own. The woman holding the crossbow screamed, throwing the now-fiery weapon away. She was dark haired and dark skinned, dressed differently than the others, neither in a uniform or in armor. Most of the defenders were magical creatures of one sort or another, but those that were human wore the green armor of the Witch. That girl didn't, which might have interested Rumplestiltskin if she hadn't tried to shoot him. Now she was wringing her hands out painfully, as if they'd been burned, of all things.

_Surprise, surprise. Fire burns._ He managed not to snarl aloud, but Rumplestiltskin had always hated being interrupted. He turned his attention back to his work.

The girl was running.

"Catch her!" Bae shouted at someone, and several horses bolted after her, their riders leaning forward in the saddle to urge them on.

"I've got her!" Prince Philip was in front, suddenly dragging the kicking and fighting girl into the saddle with him. A moment later, she was free of his grip and running again, but two other riders cut her off.

Rumplestiltskin tore his attention away from the little drama. It wasn't relevant. He touched the gate again, throwing up an impromptu shield with his left hand as he did so. Yes, the spells he had guessed would be present were there. There was a strange undercurrent to the magic, though, as if Zelena had been learning new types of lessons. Oh, she wasn't one of his students—thankfully, as he'd had enough trouble lately from former apprentices—but Rumplestiltskin knew where she'd learned from, and this was the wrong type of magic for that. It was familiar, however, and his chest tightened when he recognized the source. The undercurrents were there, plain as day, the same wisps of power that had tried to conquer his soul. _Focus, _he told himself firmly, pushing those worries away. For now he had to deal with the other spells on the castle before they could hurt anyone else. Including the prisoners.

A few moments work unraveled the spells, and allowed him to concentrate on the people held inside the castle. There were more prisoners than Baelfire had anticipated, Rumplestiltskin realized as his magic flooded him with answers, with information. Small bits of magic anointed each of the prisoners, making them easier to transform, to track. Yet the pieces were all part of a larger whole, and interconnected, so he swept them aside, turned them inside out and pointed the trackers back at their source.

Soon enough, Zelena would experience tiny pinpricks all over her skin, annoying but not deadly, and the magic would tell her that her surveillance had failed. This was only small magic on a large scale, nothing surprising except for the fact that she'd managed to do it to each of the hundred or so prisoners. Doing that was incredibly time consuming, unless you had the power to sweep them all up at once and work the same magic together. Still, that was hard to do, even with prisoners, and Rumplestiltskin was impressed. Zelena continued to be as naughty as she was powerful, and she'd obviously found a new teacher. One who Rumplestiltskin stilldidn't know the name of.

Names had power, and he _wanted_ that one.

"All done, Pop?"

Rumplestiltskin jumped. Suddenly, Bae was at his side, dismounted and covered in mud and someone or something else's blood. When had that happened? He'd been deep enough into the magic to ignore the passage of time, and even Rumplestiltskin knew enough to know that could be deadly on a battlefield. Silently cursing himself as a fool, he replied as levelly as he could:

"I am. Your prisoners are through the second set of gates. The nastiness guarding them has been…dismantled."

Bae smiled. "Thanks."

"Don't get used to it," he replied dryly. "I am _not _the sword-swinging battlefield type of sorcerer, and have no intention of becoming one."

His son only laughed. "I wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

_**A/N:**_ _Wow! Thank you again to everyone who reviewed! I hope I've addressed a few requests/concerns in the last few chapters—if I haven't, feel free to drop me a line! Now onto the questions: 1) Did Rumplestiltskin manage to knock out the fae who was trying to cast magic and 2) Did you catch Rapunzel's cameo? You'll see more of her in the next chapter._

_Please do let me know what you think, and stay tuned for Chapter 13: "Names Have Power", in which Emma tries desperately to get through the magic holding them, Rapunzel points fingers, Henry gets an unexpected visit from the Blue Fairy, and Rumplestiltskin learns something crucial to their survival._


	14. Chapter 13: Names Have Power

_**Chapter Thirteen—"Names Have Power"**_

* * *

They greeted dawn with another argument. Emma's head had been pounding so hard that she could barely sleep, but she'd _tried _not to wake the other two while she lay there standing at the trees. They'd stopped near the tree they somehow kept wandering by, just to keep the stupid thing in their sights, so Emma stared at _that _as light started to trickle into the forest, wondering what the heck kind of magic could keep them trapped like this. For the first time, she really regretted not accepting Regina's offer of lessons. Every other time Emma had needed to use magic, there had been a more experienced magical user along, someone who she could help_._ Regina was always able to handle the fine points, the parts of a spell that required skill and finesse, while Emma provided raw power.

But now there was no one else to depend upon. If someone was going to beat this magical mess they were in, it was up to Emma—Emma who couldn't keep her temper under control, and when she _could_, found herself snogging Hook. And then she'd think about Neal and feel guilty, which made no sense at all. What the _hell _was her problem? She was even angry at herself for that, and Emma hated being out of control like this. Knowing that magic had done this to her made things no better. She still wanted to kiss and/or kill Hook and kill Robin despite the fact that the poor man hadn't ever done a thing to her. She barely knew Robin Hood, and yet the urge to claw his eyeballs out with her fingers was almost overwhelming.

"Did you have to start tromping around so loudly before the sun is even up?" Robin demanded now, lumbering to his feet and kicking Hook awake.

"Ow!" the pirate yelped. "What was that for?"

Emma knew what the answer was before Robin replied: "Because you've gotten us lost."

"_I've _gotten us lost?" Hook snarled, rising to glare at the outlaw, even as he brushed leaves off of his leather coat. "_Your _pathetic tracking skills are what is responsible for our current predicament. If you had listened to me in the first place, we would have avoided this section of woods entirely!"

"And taken _months _to get there. I'd rather walk in circles," Robin shot back.

Frustrated, Emma interjected before they could come to blows. Again. "In case you've both forgotten, we're currently doing just that. So _shut the hell up _and stop fighting. I'm not breaking you up again."

"Says the woman who kisses with teeth. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were a cannibal." Robin's smile was wide and nasty. "Not that Hook wouldn't look better with half a face."

Emma ruthlessly repressed the urge to tear Robin's grin off. "_Enough!"_

But it wasn't. The boys kept arguing, leaving Emma to start desperately reaching for magic to quell whatever it was that kept them fighting with one another instead of their common enemy.

* * *

"I'm not one of the Witch's slaves," the girl snapped, glaring defiantly at Bae and Prince Philip.

Her long dark hair was tangled around her face, with the ends of a thick braid dragging on the ground, and her hands were bright red, burned, a little puckered with blisters. Yet her pretty features were animated by fury rather than pain, and she glowered at Balefire as if daring him to contradict her. _I wish David was here. He's so much better at calming down frightened people. Or crazy people. _Frankly, he wasn't certain which category the girl fell in.

"I didn't say you were," Bae said cautiously, but the look on her face only grew more poisonous.

"You didn't have to!"

Apparently saying hello was code for calling someone evil these days, but he bit back the urge to point that out, instead turning away from the girl with long, tangled hair. Bae beckoned two of his officers forward. "Go find the other prisoners. Bring them here."

The courtyard was probably the best place to gather the people that the Witch had locked up, and it would keep the majority of Bae's people away from any additional booby traps in King Stefan's castle. His father was prowling around the edges of the courtyard somewhere over to the right, hopefully finding and dismantling whatever nasty magical surprises the Witch had left behind, but that didn't cover everything. Not every trap had to be laid with magic, and Bae wasn't going to take any chances of his soldiers falling into a pit or something equally unpleasant. Either way, Bae figured that he was going to be stuck with this girl in the meanwhile. _She seems like a lot of work._ Sighing, he tried to smile at the girl, who had started glaring at Philip while Bae was giving orders.

"So, you have a name?" he asked her, trying not to sound impatient. Or confrontational.

"Do you?" she shot back.

Bae bit off a frustrated response. "Baelfire," he answered. "I'm one of the commanders in the army opposing the Witch."

"The hell you are," she snarled, long hair obscuring her face as she shook her head wildly. An angry swipe of her hands shoved it aside, and she winced as the burns on her hands made contact with her hair. "No one beats the Witch."

"Well, we're working on it," Bae replied with a smile and shrug, trying to be friendly. "No promises yet, but I think we did pretty good today. And this isn't our first victory, either."

"Rapunzel."

"Excuse me?"

She scowled. "That's my name. And you're either wrong or lying. That's how she got most of us, by having someone show up to 'help' and then trapping us. Ask anyone here."

Well, maybe that explained her hostility. Bae frowned thoughtfully.

"Then why would we come _here_?" he countered as reasonably as he could manage. "If she's already got you, why bother with another trap?"

"Because she's the Wicked Witch, and she likes her games!" But Rapunzel sounded a little more doubtful, and Bae figured that he was starting to win her over. A little.

"Well, this isn't one of them. Hell, I've never even met the Witch, and I'm sure as hell not working for her," he replied.

"You might not be, but _he _is," Rapunzel snapped, pointing furiously.

Pointing at Bae's father.

"_What?"_

* * *

The ricochet was deadly.

Desperate to stop the wild argument taking place between herself, Hook, and Robin, Emma reached for her magic. All she wanted to do was stop _whatever _it was that had a hold of all of them. There was obviously some evil magic at work that was making them violent, argumentative, and emotional. They'd been walking in circles for days—or was it weeks, now? Emma's sense of time had become distorted while they wandered—but _someone _neededto break that logjam. That meant _Emma_ had to do something, so she reached for the magic that she often wished she didn't have, grasping it in her mental hands and _pushing_ outwards. Immediately, her magic became a physical force, a shimmering white wind that ripped outwards from her, speeding at Robin fast and hard enough that it would inevitably tear him in half.

Nearly, anyway.

The outlaw's impressive reflexes saved him. Robin hit the ground a split second before the wave of magic flashed through the air, ruffling the forest-colored clothing he wore with the speed of its passage. Hook yelped and threw himself aside, too, and even Emma had to duck when her own magic bounced off some invisible barrier a hundred or so feet away, ricocheting towards the trio and making them all bury their faces in the dirt. After a moment, Emma started to bring her head up, sure that the danger had passed, only to swear as the power came back at her once more, a little bit weaker but still deadly.

"What the hell are you doing?" Robin demanded.

"I don't know!" Emma gasped. "I just tried to use magic to—"

"Emma, you have to stop this!" Hook cut in as the power bounced back once more, making them duck yet again.

"I can't!" Magic was emotion, Regina had told her once, and Emma should have thought of that before she acted in desperation. But she hadn't, and she couldn't, and everything was happening too fast—

Several agonizing minutes passed while the magic bounced back and forth, seemingly trying to kill them each time. Finally, the waves of power died down and Emma was able to stand up, looking around cautiously. "I think it's stopped," she told the others.

"About bloody time," Robin breathed, glancing nervously at the trees. "That was utterly…terrifying. I wasn't aware of the fact that you have magic."

Emma groaned. "Obviously it's not one of my better talents."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, love," Hook said, stepping up next to her with a smile. "You had to try something, and it was worth a shot."

"That's nice of you to say, but I was still an idiot." She grimaced, glaring at the tree Hook had carved the 'X' into. "And we're still stuck here."

Robin peered into the trees again, squinting at something only he could see. "Actually, I'm not so certain about that."

"What?" Emma and Hook both turned to stare.

"There wasn't a breeze before. I noticed it, but I was too angry to mention," Robin replied with an embarrassed shrug. "We were stuck in a bubble of the forest. Nothing left, nothing _entered_. We were trapped by magic as much as we were trapped by our own emotions."

"And you're saying that that's gone? The bubble?" Hook asked. But Emma got in before Robin could answer:

"I'm not angry anymore."

"What did you—oh. I'll be damned." Robin's grin was lopsided, but his eyes were brighter than Emma remembered seeing them. "You're right. You did it, Emma. Your magic freed us."

Before she could reply, Hook's right hand wrapped around her waist, and Emma found herself swept up into a passionate kiss. Her emotions running high, she returned it with gusto, wrapping her fingers into the front of his leather coat and holding on tight. The last few days had been an emotional roller coaster, full of terrifying ups and downs and unexpected jaunts to the left. After all that, Emma just wanted something normal, something familiar, and if clinging to Hook made everything better for a few moments, she figured that the universe might just owe her a moment or two.

The kiss took her breath away, and Emma smiled as she pulled back, looking into Hook's eyes. Her heart did an odd stutter, and she pushed aside her doubts. Hook—_Killian_—was a good man, and he'd stood by her through thick and thin. He'd even crossed worlds to bring Emma and Henry back to the Enchanted Forest, and she _was _attracted to him.

"I told you not to be too hard on yourself, Emma," Hook smiled.

"Sorry about the last few days," she murmured in response.

"Oh, there's no need for that," he grinned cheekily. "I wasn't objecting to your advances, love. I just wanted to make sure you were yourself when you were making them."

"Right." Suddenly embarrassed—Robin was clearing his throat with increasing volume and her face felt like it was on fire—Emma pulled back. "Let's go rescue Regina, huh?"

* * *

Both of his moms had been gone for three weeks, and Henry was starting to get very worried. Spending time with his Grandma Snow was good and all, but he really wanted to be along on the rescue mission that had gone after Regina, not sitting in the Dark Castle and waiting for Emma to get back. But Emma had absolutely refused to let him come along, even though she'd let _Hook _go, and Henry was certain that he would be far more useful than the pirate would, particularly on a quest that probably depended on knowledge of the Enchanted Forest. Henry _liked_ Hook, but he knew that he'd have been a lot more help to his mom than anyone wanted to admit to.

Unfortunately, the only one in the entire castle who seemed to think that Henry's opinion mattered was Belle. Grandma Snow was always so _busy_, sorting out one problem or another, but Belle tended to stick to the library when she wasn't solving problems, digging through books and researching…something. But at least hanging out with her made him feel useful. Belle accepted that Henry knew things about the Enchanted Forest, and happily took him on as a research assistant. She hadn't told him exactly what she was looking for yet, but Henry knew she would in time. So far, Belle had only told Henry that she was looking into the ancient history of magic, and had sent him looking for a pair of books up on the second floor when the Blue Fairy showed up.

"Hello, Henry," Blue said quietly. Still, the sudden sound of a new voice made Henry jump. He hadn't expected to see her, and almost fell off of the ladder he'd been perched on. The chief fairy chuckled softly. "Watch out, there."

She had a wand in her hand, Henry noticed, and was probably poised to catch him if he had taken a tumble. He smiled. "Hi."

Excited to see a new visitor, Henry scurried down the ladder, jumping to clear the last few rungs. Although most people had seemed happy to see him, everyone but Belle still treated him like he was a little kid. He was thirteen now, not eleven, and Henry knew that made him almost a man under the old rules in the Enchanted Forest.

"I wanted to welcome you to the Enchanted Forest," the Blue Fairy said with another gentle smile, sitting down on a nearby couch and gesturing for Henry to join her.

"Thanks." It probably wasn't polite to question a fairy, but Henry couldn't stop himself from continuing: "So, what are you doing here? Grandma Snow says you've been really busy. Sorry if it's rude to ask."

Blue laughed again. "I don't mind. I have been very busy, and that's actually why I came to talk to you."

"To me?"

"Of course."

Henry peered at her curiously. Was he detecting an odd edge in the Blue Fairy's voice? "Why me?"

"Because you're important, Henry. Very important. I know that Pan told you that, and because of how he tried to manipulate you, you are rightfully concerned. But Pan was right about some things, Henry."

The mere mention of Pan brought back horrible memories, made Henry think of time spent floating in red smoke, screams echoing all around himself in an empty cage of nothingness. Worse than his time in Pandora's Box, however, was the memory of _believing_, of being tricked into thinking he could save magic when all Pan had wanted to do was save himself. Henry had been willing to die to be a hero, and Pan had used that. Pan had used _him_, had manipulated Henry into tearing his own heart out. And then Pan had tried to kill his family and friends.

Henry swallowed hard. Of course, the Blue Fairy wasn't Pan—she was _good _and always on the right side. Even though he knew she wasn't perfect (Henry had read too many stories to think that even the Blue Fairy was beyond reproach), Henry wanted to trust her. She'd helped his grandparents so many times that he _had _to believe in her.

"What was Pan right about?" he asked cautiously, and was rewarded by a gentle smile.

"Your heart _is_ special, Henry. You are the Truest Believer. Pan wanted your heart in order to prolong his own life, but it really is so much more," the Blue Fairy replied. "_You _really are so much more."

"Like what?"

Trying not to feel excited, Henry sucked in a deep breath. He'd once said that he'd been waiting his entire life to be a hero, and he _had_—but he had also learned the hard way that wanting to be a hero only caused trouble. In Neverland, he'd rushed straight into Pan's hands. Henry came from a family of heroes and sorcerers, but he wasn't a foolish boy any more. He _wouldn't _let himself fall into that trap, no matter how exciting it sounded. Having the Heart of the Truest Believer had only gotten him into a world of trouble in the past, and Henry wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.

"Your heart has extraordinary power. The Heart of the Truest Believer holds inside one of the most powerful magics to ever exist, and there are many who will try to take it from you."

Henry felt his eyes go wide. "Other than Pan?"

"I'm afraid so."

"And that's why you're here. To warn me." Henry swallowed again, feeling cold inside. When Pan had told him that he could be a hero, Henry had wanted so badly to believe him—but he'd learned that the world didn't work like that. He was probably too old to be afraid, but a part of him was downright terrified.

"Indeed I am. You've always been a bright boy."

Henry tried to smile at the compliment, but the expression felt empty. "So, what do I do?"

"Pan sought to use you to grant himself eternal life, but there are others who would do far worse. There is one in particular who would use your heart for great evil, to grant herself dominion over all the realms, beginning here in the Enchanted Forest." The Blue Fairy looked away for a moment, swallowing. "And she will stop at nothing. Even if that means trapping you and keeping you away from your family. Or even killing you."

"Will she use me against them? And who is she?"

"The Black Fairy."

Henry's eyes went wide. "You gave her wand to Mr. Gold—I mean Rumplestiltskin—to stop Pan. I thought she was dead."

"Alas, no. And she will try to use you against your family and friends, Henry," the Blue Fairy replied sadly. "If we can't keep you away from her."

"What do I have to do?" he asked again, his voice growing stronger.

Henry wasn't going to be used against his family. Not again. Pan had lured his family to Neverland and had played his infernal games with them. They'd been in constant danger because they'd come to save Henry, and he wasn't going to let that happen again. Not if he could do anything to stop it. _This _time Henry would save them. He wouldn't make them save him. Henry felt himself sitting up straighter as resolve banished his fears.

"We have to take you someplace safe, and we must do so now."

* * *

Bae turned back to stare at Rapunzel, gaping. "What _are_ you talking about?"

"There's no magic left in the world," the girl replied in a snarl. "Except that of the Witch. Every magic user works for _her_."

"Oh. Um. I think you've got that wrong." Unable to help himself, Bae snickered, trying to imagine his father subservient to anyone—let alone a green-skinned witch. It boggled the mind, but Rapunzel only looked offended by his laughter.

"No, I _don't_," she snapped. "It's not my fault that you have no idea what's been happening here. The world changed while you were all gone. All magic comes from the Witch now. _Everyone _knows that, and you've let one of her creatures in!"

"Okay. I think we need to straighten some stuff out." It really wasn't funny anymore, so Bae turned and raised his voice. "Pop, you want to come join us over here?"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"_Merlin," _a voice whispered in his mind, soft and worried.

He turned, but it wasn't Rumplestiltskin who turned. It was a man within his memory, an action that took place hundreds if not thousands of years previously. He held a staff in his hand—or the man in his memory did—and leaned on it heavily as he peered at the slender woman who stood beside him. He was wearing a sword, too—one that was familiar to Rumplestiltskin, and not just the memory. Excalibur?

"_You cannot do this alone," she said when he did not answer. Angular features made her thin face look even more wan in the fading light; no one would call Morgan beautiful, but then again, no one could call her fully human, either. They were, the both of them, partbreds and outcasts, though the foolish humans who sneered and called her "Fae" still revered him. And yet her beginnings had been far more honorable than his. How could anyone decry the love a fairy felt for a human man whilst half worshiping the offspring of a woman raped by a demon?_

_He scowled, the expression at home on his face. "I can. I shall."_

"_Merlin—"_

"_Not this time, Morgan," he cut her off, feeling old. "I am the last of my kind. Perhaps this is for the best."_

"_It _isn't_," his half-fae friend insisted. "Circe's actions brought death down upon herself. But what happened to __Saint Germain, and Baba Yaga was horrible. Will you let them take you down as well? Will you too die to sake their lust for more and more magic, to have your powers broken up? You can do so much more than any mere _human._"_

_She all but spat the word, but then, the human witches and sorcerers that rose out of Saint Germain and Baba Yaga's deaths had long since labeled Morgan Le Fae as evil. He knew it was not so simple; Morgan had never fit in any tiny category they wanted to put her in. He had always known. So he relented and told her that which he had known would anger her:_

"_I won't be alone," he said softly. "__Danns' a'Bhàis will stand with me."_

_Morgan's face darkened. "Her again."_

_He grimaced. No, this wasn't going to go well. Morgan had never trusted the Black Fae, no matter how close their relation. Truth be told, Merlin had never asked Morgan about the depth of her suspicions—some things were best left unasked. He'd been torn between Morgan and Danns for centuries. Today was nothing new._

"_She is my friend," he replied mildly._

"_More fool you. She'll betray you."_

_Morgan Saw the future sometimes, he knew. She wasn't a true Seer—after Saint Germain's death, the actual Seers amongst humanity had gone to ground, fearing to share his fate. More than two hundred years later, the Seers remained hidden, no matter how earnest Merlin's attempts to make their world safe had been. Morgan had been by his side for most of those battles; she was not as old as Merlin, yet she was almost as immortal as her relatives amongst the fae. He trusted her above all, and loved her dearly. But here he knew she was wrong._

"Pop, you want to come join us over here?"

Rumplestiltskin's eyes flew open. There'd been fae magic on the castle, and that had—that had _what_? He had no idea where that memory had come from, yet it felt so very real. Had he been standing upon that plain? Of course not. That idea was utterly ridiculous, and Bae was calling for him again. With an effort, he turned his attention to his son, twisted his mind back to the present. Names and faces still echoed in his mind.

Danns. A pale-faced woman with dark red hair, her features ones that both he and the memories knew. She had betrayed her friend. _Old friend, _she called him, calling to the memories lurking in his mind. She was beautiful and terrifying, and so very powerful. He—_Merlin_—had trusted her. He had never come back from that battle, though history would call it a victory. Tales said that Merlin had died a hero, vanishing in the mists until he would one day be needed again, but the tales were wrong. His friend had betrayed him, tortured him—

Rumplestiltskin had wanted a name. Now he had one. _Danns' a'Bhàis._ Dance of Death.

* * *

_**A/N:**_ _Thank you again to all my lovely readers! You're all the reason I'm enjoying writing this story so much! My questions this time around are: 1) Do you think Henry will go with Blue and 2) What do you think will happen once Emma, Hook, and Robin reach the Forbidden Fortress to rescue Regina? _

_Please do review, and stay tuned for Chapter 14: "The Heart of the Truest Believer", where Rumplestiltskin and Baelfire run afoul of some royalty, Emma and co. find Regina, Belle makes an important discovery, and the Blue Fairy is Up To Something._


	15. Chapter 14: Heart of the Truest Believer

_**Chapter Fourteen—"The Heart of the Truest Believer"**_

* * *

Trying to convince Rapunzel that the Witch wasn't the only magic in the world was put on hold by the arrival of the other prisoners. By the time Baelfire's father had noticed that he was being beckoned, the other humans who the Witch had locked up arrived in the courtyard, led by two very confounded officers. One look at the pair of prisoners leading the group sent Prince Philip scurrying from Bae's side to greet them, and things only went downhill from there. After all, no one had expected King Hubert to walk into the still-gloomy courtyard. Philip had been utterly shocked to find his father amongst the prisoners—this castle, after all, had belonged to King Stefan, Philip's father-_in-law_, and there had been absolutely no evidence at all that either of Philip's parents were alive. Queen Leah, King Stefan's wife and Aurora's mother, turned out to be alive as well, with both monarchs having been hidden along with a little over a hundred other prisoners in the bowels of the castle. Now, Philip's father and Aurora's mother stood side by side, eying Bae and Rumplestiltskin warily.

Rapunzel immediately shifted to a spot near the king and queen, still glaring. Queen Leah paused to speak to the girl, and her face grew tight while they talked. Bae couldn't hear what was said, but he had a feeling that he wouldn't like it.

"Father, Queen Leah, this is Baelfire," Philip started nervously. "He's my commanding officer."

Two royal sets of eyes turned on Bae, and he fought the urge to swallow nervously. He was used to the Charmings and Regina, or even Philip, Aurora, Thomas, and Ella. Out of all the royals he usually spent time around, only the Charmings were actual monarchs, and Bae had known them in Storybrooke. Besides, they were Emma's _parents_, and that made Bae see them in an entirely different light. King Hubert and Queen Leah, however, were rulers of kingdoms…and Bae was just a cheeky kid from the Frontlands who happened to have fallen in love with a lost princess. _And I don't even know if Emma loves me back. It's not like I have any claim to her, and that means I'm probably lower than dirt in their eyes._

"Uh, hi," Bae replied after a moment, shrugging before he could do something stupid like wave his hand at a king and queen.

"Lord Baelfire of where?" Queen Leah asked immediately.

"Oh, um, I'm not a lord. Definitely not." He threw a somewhat panicked glance his father's way, wondering exactly where he should say that he was from. But Rumplestiltskin only shrugged, and Bae felt a naughty smile pulling at his own lips. "Most recently I'm from New York, but I doubt you've heard of the place."

Both monarchs blinked. Even Philip looked dreadfully confused; the prince was aware of Storybrooke, but probably didn't appreciate the fact that there were othertowns and cities in the Land Without Magic. And yes, that definitely was an amused smirk twitching on his father's face. Bae probably shouldn't have indulged his own twisted sense of humor, but they _had _asked. Not for the first time, Bae wished David was there. David might have been younger than Leah and Hubert both, but he would have had the diplomatic chops to be on equal footing with these two. Instead, they got a spinner's kid from the Frontlands who hadn't been in the Enchanted Forest for over two centuries and really didn't care who these two monarchs were.

_Probably comes from knowing that I'm about two hundred years older than both of them, _Bae thought behind a crooked smile.

"I see," King Hubert said stiffly, his posture utterly regal despite the filth covering his clothing and his skin. The disgust in his eyes, however, made Bae square his shoulders.

"I am still in command here," he said before they could get too condescending. _And yes, Philip is working for me, even if _he's _a prince and I'm a nobody. _"We'll take care of your people and get you to safety. We don't really have the forces to hold this castle, not now—but we can get you all out of territory controlled by the Witch."

"We didn't expect to find so many prisoners here, Father," Philip put in. "Our main army isn't nearby, but we've been making great strides these past months. The Witch's forces are on the run, and we freed an entire kingdom from her control recently."

"That's excellent news," Hubert said, his aloofness melting a little bit before he turned back to face Bae. "We thank you."

"Just here to help."

Queen Leah, however, did not look nearly so appeased, and she turned to Bae's father with an icy glare. "You are the magic user?"

"Indeed I am."

_Oh, crap._ Bae twisted to look at his father, noting how the level tone of voice met up with a twisted smile. He really didn't know his father in the Enchanted Forest at all, but Bae did know _himself_. Faced with that much smug superiority, Bae'd be likely to mouth off, and _he_ hardly had Rumplestiltskin's power or reputation. From what he'd seen in Storybrooke, his father wasn't about to put up with this kind of reception, even coming from a queen.

"And you claim not to be working for the Witch? We know that to be a lie. Whoever you are—"

"Rumplestiltskin," Bae's father cut her off, all sharp edges and a mocking bow. "At your service."

Both monarchs flinched, and Hubert actually stumbled a step backwards. Was it horrible of Bae to relish how wide their eyes went after both monarchs had made it plain how little they thought of him? He supposed that he shouldn't be surprised; the Enchanted Forest _was _a feudal society. Perhaps he'd just spent too long in the modern-day Land Without Magic and was too used to being accepted based on his own merits instead of his birth. _Then again, being Rumplestiltskin's son probably counts for a lot in this world_, he realized. _Huh._

"The Dark One is dead," Leah managed after a moment, sneering right back.

"It's nice to know that my reputation preceded me, dearie, but you needn't get so worked up," Rumplestiltskin retorted with a flourish of one hand and a sardonic smile. "Unfortunately for my old friend Zelena, I am _very_ far from dead, and I am certainly not her…'creature'. In fact, I'm of a mind to pull her off that throne she's stolen. Assuming you're interested."

"You're…you're _helping _in the fight against the Witch?" Hubert asked, clearly stunned.

"That would appear to be the case."

Philip, who was at least somewhat used to Bae's father's presence, spoke up again: "Those of us who were left behind during the curse apparently missed some significant alliances forming. Queen Regina is with us as well."

Hubert and Leah exchanged mystified looks, but Bae cleared his throat before either of them could start asking more questions.

"I hate to interrupt, but what we need to do right now is get out of—"

"No."

"Papa?" Surprise shocked the word out of him, and Baelfire twisted to look at his father, whose attention was now on something in the distance. Both monarchs were now staring at _him _again, but they never got the chance to ask the questions obviously burning in their minds.

Rumplestiltskin turned away very slowly. "There's a fae here. Get down."

* * *

Four hours after Emma's magic broke through the trap forcing them to walk in circles, the trio finally approached the Forbidden Fortress. Knowing how close they'd been the entire time—for _four _days!—rankled, but Emma was glad to know that her frustrations were solely her own. At least there wasn't some stupid spell setting her temper off now.

"So, how do we get in?" she asked Robin when they stopped about a mile short of the castle. It really was, well…foreboding. Emma had broken into enough places to know that it was going to be a tough nut to crack. Thankfully, they had Robin along, and he'd done this before. Working together was so much easier now that all three of them were less angry. Even Hook's ego seemed to be under control.

Robin grimaced. "With Maleficent here? I wasn't dumb enough to do that last time. Best bet is to find some way to distract her and then sneak in."

"Were there fewer magical wards warning of your approach, that _might _be a passable notion," a fourth voice suddenly said from behind them.

Emma, Hook, and Robin whirled together, and Emma felt her eyes go wide. Between Regina and Rumplestiltskin, she thought she'd known what to expect from an evil wizard/witch/sorcerer/whatever, but Maleficent really took the cake, complete with a tall _horned _headdress that should have looked ridiculous but somehow didn't. Her eyes were fierce, framed by a pale and angry face and somewhat wild hair. Unfortunately, the staff in her hand was definitely pointed their way, too.

"I think I liked you better as a dragon," Emma retorted, drawing her sword.

Maleficent threw her head back and laughed. Emma had _seen _Disney movies where she was the villain. How could a cackle sound so threatening? Magic tingled in the distance, making the hairs on the back of Emma's neck stand up.

"We seek no conflict with you," Robin spoke up reasonably. "We're only here for Queen Regina."

"And if I said that would bring you into conflict with me?" Maleficent sounded almost playful, and her smile really ticked Emma off.

"Then we'll do whatever we have to do," Robin replied, his voice growing hard.

Emma smiled nastily. "I killed you as a dragon. I'll do it again if I have to. Bet it's easier this time."

"My, my. Your friends _are _loyal," Maleficent said lightly, but her eyes flicked off to Emma's right as she spoke.

"I told you that you shouldn't screw with them," Regina retorted as she appeared in a cloud of purple smoke.

Maleficent pouted. "I did have to test them. I was _bored_."

Regina rolled her eyes. "Are you finished? Or do we have to go through this again?"

Was it Emma's imagination, or did Maleficent wince?

"There's no need," the fallen fairy replied tartly. "We have an understanding."

"Good."

With those words, Maleficent vanished in another cloud of purple smoke, pausing to cast an unreadable look Hook's way. Stunned—hadn't they come all this way expecting to do battle against Maleficent?—a long moment passed before Emma could find her voice. Finally, Hook beat her to the obvious question:

"Pardon me for asking, and perhaps I miss things, being a simple pirate and not privy to the higher workings between sorcerers, but what in the world just happened?"

Regina laughed. "Maleficent and I are old friends. A few betrayals one way or another isn't going to change that," she replied easily. "It took a few battles, but we understand one another again."

"A few battles?" Emma echoed. "That sounds ominous."

"Welcome to the Enchanted Forest, Miss Swan." Regina's smile was deadly, and Emma had to admit that (borderline?) evil was a good look on her. Here, Regina's hair was longer and she dressed in mostly black, with long dresses that flowed around her as she moved. "_Everything_ is different here."

"Thanks. I think."

Regina might have said something else, but Robin stepped forward. "Are you all right, love?" he asked her quietly, taking her hands in his.

"Of course I am." Emma marveled at how the sorceress' cutting expression softened immediately. "You didn't have to come rescue me."

"And let these two come by themselves? Not a chance." The outlaw laughed, and then winked. "Besides, isn't Belle always saying that some things must be fought for?"

There was obviously much left unsaid, and Regina clearly heard every unspoken word, judging from the way she smiled. The evil queen's eyes met the outlaw's, and they might as well have been alone for all they noticed Emma and Hook. They kissed lightly, but there was a promise behind the simple expression of affection that spoke volumes of how much they meant to one another. Watching them made Emma blink. How did they become so comfortable together in less than a year? She was almost reminded of the bond between her parents, and wasn't _that _creepy?

Yet Emma's chest felt suspiciously tight. Much though she claimed that Henry was the only love in her life, she _wanted _that. She snuck a glance Hook's way. The pirate captain was certainly appealing on a visual and emotional level, but was he like every bad boy she'd ever fallen for, or was he something more? There was no denying Emma's attraction to him—or his to her—but maybe Emma was looking for more than just attraction.

* * *

Something wasn't quite right in right in the way the Blue Fairy was watching him, and it reminded Henry of Pan. He'd been manipulated then, too, straight into tearing his own heart out because Pan had _lied_. Swallowing, Henry force himself to take a mental step back and consider the situation. _Last time, I endangered _everyone _because I wanted to be a hero. I'm not going to let anyone manipulate me this time._

"But aren't I safe here? With my family." Henry asked the Blue Fairy. Why was she trying to be so concerned for him _now_, anyway? When his family had come to rescue Henry in Neverland, the Blue Fairy had been nowhere to be seen. _She'd _stayed in Storybrooke, despite the fact that she was now implying that Henry's very heart was dangerous. If she'd been so worried, why hadn't she done anything then?

"Oh, Henry," the Blue Fairy sighed. "I wish you were."

"So, why does the Black Fairy want Henry, exactly?" a new voice inquired, and Henry turned to see Belle approaching with a smile. Relief washed through him. He _liked _the brilliant Beauty-turned-librarian, and thought she was one of the bravest people he'd ever met. After all, you had to be both smart and courageous to fall in love with Rumplestiltskin, otherwise you would have either given up or wound up dead. But what Henry liked most about Belle was the way she never admitted defeat.

He was glad to have someone else here for this conversation. There was something in the way the Blue Fairy spoke that told Henry that she really _wasn't _being entirely truthful. Maybe that was just because he was still technically a kid, but maybe she was just being sneaky, too.

Henry had had enough of _that_.

The Blue Fairy stiffened. "I would not expect you to understand."

"Because I love Rumplestiltskin," was the blunt reply, and Belle's smile grew razor sharp. "I know what you said to Snow."

"This is not your concern, child. Henry and I were speaking privately and—"

"I'm okay if Belle stays," Henry cut in. She wasn't exactly his step-grandmother or anything, but Belle was his grandfather's True Love, and that made her family. Belle smiled at him as she sat down in a nearby chair, cradling a book in her lap, and Henry grinned back.

"So." Belle spoke brightly, but her eyes were wary. "Why is it that you're so concerned about the Black Fairy that you'd have to take Henry away without so much as talking to any of his parents?"

"There are forces gathering," the Blue Fairy replied ominously, just as Henry started thinking about how odd it was that she had waited until _everyone _but Grandma Snow was gone to bring this up.

"You're going to have to be more specific than that," Belle retorted immediately, sounding rather like the one of his grandparents that liked the Blue Fairy the least. He knew that Snow and David both trusted her implicitly, but Regina certainly didn't, and Emma always reserved judgment. Henry didn't know how his dad felt, but he was willing to bet that Neal would find this entire conversation very suspicious, too.

The Blue Fairy glowered. "These are things that no mere human would understand."

"Should I call Rumplestiltskin, then? I'm sure you'd agree that he's no 'mere human'," Belle countered, her blue eyes dancing. Henry snickered.

"That will _not _be necessary." The fairy rose, flattening her skirts angrily. "Henry, I will speak to you another time. Thank you for listening to me."

"You're welcome, I think," he replied warily as the Blue Fairy shrank down to glittering fairy size.

"Next time, why don't you try talking to one of his parents, too?" Belle suggested pleasantly. "I'm sure they will share _all _of your concerns for Henry's safety."

But the Blue Fairy was already flying out the window, and did not answer. Henry stared after her for a long moment, frowning in confusion, before he turned to look at Belle again.

"That was really weird."

Belle nodded. "I quite agree. And something isn't right here."

"I think she wasn't telling the whole truth," Henry said hesitantly. "I mean, I _want _to believe her, but…"

"But I think your instincts are spot on," she agreed. "Will you promise me something, Henry?"

"Sure," he answered automatically, and then caught himself. Henry wasn't ten any more, and he knew better than to make blanket promises. "I mean, if I can."

"Just don't talk to the Blue Fairy without someone else around, okay? Find one of us first."

"Oh, that's easy. Okay."

Belle _was _smart. Henry had known that, but she could still surprise him. There hadn't been much on Belle in his book (the Beauty and the Beast story in it had been the saddest story of all, given that it ended with the Beast throwing Beauty out), so everything he knew about her was from having known her in Storybrooke. But she was definitely on to something about the Blue Fairy, and Henry promised himself that he'd be careful, too. Even when they turned back to researching the history of magic—Belle's pet project hat Henry had volunteered to help with—Henry couldn't keep his mind off of what the Blue Fairy had said. _Was _he in danger, or was there something they were missing?

* * *

Rumplestiltskin had never been one to seek out magical battles, but he'd duked it out with a sorcerer or two in his time. Usually he found himself slinging magic around like that when some fool thought they were powerful enough to take on the Dark One and gain his powers through victory, but this was not exactly normal. _This _battle started almost without warning, with one of the "human" prisoners suddenly dropping her glamour and trying to knock him unconscious.

Had the fae in question been a little less dangerous, Rumplestiltskin would have mocked her for the clumsy beginning. Yet she came at him wielding enormous amounts of power, using magic of the sort that haunted his nightmares, and for the first time in centuries, Rumplestiltskin actually _hesitated_. He recovered quickly enough to absorb the spell without allowing it to disable him, but it was a closer call than he would ever admit to and left him aching. Particularly with his son and various soldiers, royals, and prisoners all looking on. He had a reputation to uphold, after all, and it simply wouldn't do to allow them to think him weak.

Truth be told, Rumplestiltskin would do just about anything to avoid letting people see him as weak, and if that meant he had to reach into the depths of power he was utterly unfamiliar with—and slightly terrified of—he would do so. Even three hundred years as the most feared creature in the Enchanted Forest hadn't robbed him of the memory of what it had been like to be frightened and bullied, and his recent experiences with the fae only underlined that long ago learned lesson. He would rather be dead than weak, and as he was rather fond of living, whatever he had to do, Rumplestiltskin would do. After that first moment's hesitation, he wrapped his mental hands around that fathomless magic and let it fly.

Three minutes later, he stood over a female fae, marveling at the power crackling through his every limb. Even as the Dark One, he'd _never _felt magic like this. He'd killed fairies, yes—usually by catching them by surprise, since Rumplestiltskin was a big believer in doing things the smartest way possible—but never so easily. Fairies were _powerful_, and yet the fae were even more so, because they didn't limit themselves to just using fairy dust, dark or light. The fae also used straight up magic, and this one did so amazingly well. She was more talented than just about any human sorcerer Rumplestiltskin had ever encountered, excepting Regina and Cora, and that _should _have made her very difficult to defeat.

Except it didn't.

"Bite off more than you can chew, dearie?" he taunted her as Bae stepped up to his side.

Snarling, the fae tried to get up, but Rumplestiltskin waved a hand and magic pinned her to the ground. Hard. He smiled, and she glared.

"I don't suppose you'd like to save your life by volunteering some information," he offered, just to see what she'd say. People said that Rumplestiltskin would make a deal with just about anyone, and while that wasn't exactly true, he _was_ perfectly happy to barter for information. At his left, Bae winced slightly, but his son didn't argue—Bae was a practical sort, after all, and this fae _had _just attacked them.

"No."

Without warning, magic roared out from her clenched fists, boiling up and almost overcoming his defenses. It came in hard and fast, brilliant and deadly, designed to rip him limb from limb and leave Rumplestiltskin begging for death. The spell was sheer darkness mixed with a touch of madness, and so utterly powerful that it should have hit him before he had any idea he was in danger.

But he saw the magic coming, and even more importantly, he _recognized _it. Knowledge welled up from somewhere inside Rumplestiltskin, allowing him to turn the attack aside with a flick of his right wrist, wrapping it into a ball and catching the now-glowing orb in the palm of his hand. Blinking, he turned to study the magic he'd trapped, admiring the intricately woven strands of silver, black, and purple as they hummed and buzzed for release. The spell was as potent as anything he'd ever cast as the Dark One, complete with a solid core of evil fairy dust to give it sharp pointy teeth. It was a fascinating construct, and the well-studied sorcerer in him wanted to hold the magic and dissect it, scrutinizing every piece and learning every individual spell. There were at least seven different enchantments encased in the fist-sized ball he held, and it was utterly fascinating.

"You all right, Papa?" Bae asked quietly from his left, jerking Rumplestiltskin back to the present. Startled, he glanced at his son.

"Oh, I'm quite all right. Better, I think, than our friend here would like me to be." Looking down at the angry fae again, Rumplestiltskin shot her a nasty grin. "Isn't that so?"

She growled, a low and dangerous sound that should have set his teeth on edge. Yet somehow it just felt familiar. Had he seen her before? Rumplestiltskin didn't think she was one of the fae who had…_visited_ him during his imprisonment. But then again, he'd been so out of it that he might not have been able to tell any of the fae apart, except for _her_. _Call her what she is. __Danns' a'Bhàis. The Black Fairy._

"Then kill me," the fae hissed. "_Merlin._"

That made him blink again, cocking his head to peer at her in confusion—confusion that quickly bled over into almost irrational anger. The name jelled far too well with the visions/memories he still hadn't overcome, and being at a disadvantage always infuriated him. His voice came out clipped and sharp: "My name, dearie, is _Rumplestiltskin_."

"Merlin," she repeated, scowling right back at him. "Deny it all you like. It's what you _are_."

She vanished.

And then the ground started to shake.

* * *

Belle wasn't sure what made her pick up _An Abridged Historie of the Formation of Magic _again. She still didn't know the name of the book, and had all but forgotten it once she had finished reading the slender volume, but something made her go back to it. Belle hadn't looked at the ragged old book in what felt like forever; she'd last noticed it at least six months before they'd found Rumplestiltskin in Bremen. Being Belle, at least thirty other books had passed through her hands and her mind since then, which meant the details were now a little blurry. Yet hearing the Blue Fairy mention the Heart of the Truest Believer made Belle dig the old book out once more, flipping through its pages until she found the right section.

_Incidental Powers_

_Much like the Secondary Powers (referenced previously), Incidental Powers were created through the actions of magic-users, with few exceptions. However, unlike the Secondary Powers, these magics are not objects or magical beings; they are instead _statuses _granted to an otherwise normal entity. Usually human, these beings are remarkable creatures in and as themselves, but it is the incidental powers they bear which are of interest here. These powers include: the Golden Touch, the All-Seeing Eye, the Bones of the Willing Sage, the Heart of the Truest Believer, and the Heart of Darkness. The possibility of other incidental powers developing over time cannot be discounted, but in the first millennia of magic, only these five have been identified._

_Each incidental power takes residence in a living being. While the Golden Touch and the All-Seeing Eye are commonly known as curses, this is an incorrect assumption. Both, like all incidental powers, can exist at a maximum of once per generation, but are often much less common. These powers have been known to skip over as much as six or seven generations without manifesting themselves, only to reappear again after having been all but forgotten. Yet the physical exhibitions of each power are not the sum of its importance. While each "possessor" of an incidental power can indeed exercise a certain degree of magic because of the power's presence, the actual incidental power itself becomes a magical object when removed from its host._

_In this manner, the incidental powers take on a status similar to that of the objects of secondary power, save for the fact that they first must be removed from the being who naturally possesses them._

_Although all five incidental powers are extraordinary in their own right, by far the most powerful of the group is the Heart of the Truest Believer. Any heart removed by magic becomes enchanted, but unlike these other hearts, the Heart of the Truest Believer already possesses magic. In fact, its magic is the second purest and lightest magic in all the realms, only eclipsed in power by True Love._

_Alone of the incidental powers, the Heart of the Truest Believer always exists within a human being. Unlike the Golden Touch and the All-Seeing Eye, there are no external indicators of its presence, but a well-versed magic user can identify the host. The Heart itself is always golden in color, a true "heart of gold." When removed, it can grant a magic user eternal life, great power, or the ability to freeze time itself. When inserted into _another _being, the Heart can be used to magically bind that being to whom took the Heart from its host. It is said that both the Blue Fairy and the Black Fae committed themselves to great study of the Heart's magic, discovering that if long life can be granted to the host, the Heart itself will continue to provide power for centuries. Each captured and held at least one host during the first millennia of magic, testing both the limits of the power and its relation to the human host. By this time, the rivalry between the two Original Fairies was fierce, and although both uncovered further powers of the Heart, those were kept secret by their respective followers lest the other discover them._

_Perhaps because of its great power, the Heart of the Truest Believer is the most uncommon of the incidental powers, appearing no more regularly than once per each century. However, should the Host be killed before their time, should their lifespan be cut short by violence or trickery, another Heart of the Truest Believer will immediately manifest itself._

Blinking, Belle immediately turned back one page to read the entire section again. Until the Blue Fairy had referenced the Heart of the Truest Believer, they'd all thought it just to be a label Pan had stuck on Henry, something created to convince Henry to do his bidding. Yet this thousand year old book indicated otherwise. _Henry isn't the first, _Belle realized with a suddenly racing heart. The book implied that the Heart of the Truest Believer was incredibly powerful, and Belle knew what that meant. She remembered her history well enough. Ordinary humans who found themselves in possession of items of great power never fared well in the Enchanted Forest. _I wonder what happened to the others._

"That lying…mosquito," she hissed, her eyes travelling back back to the second to last paragraph.

The _Blue Fairy _had experimented on one of Henry's predecessors. She'd implied that the Black Fairy—suddenly and conveniently alive, according to her—would want to use Henry's heart to endanger his family, but she'd never mentioned that she also had done such things in the past! Was that why Blue was so eager to spirit Henry away without anyone's knowledge? Did _she _want the Heart as well?

Slamming the book shut, Belle headed out to find Snow. _No one _was going to hurt a member of Belle's family, not while she could prevent it.

* * *

_**A/N:**_ _Thank you for reading, and please drop me a line to tell me what you think! My questions this time around are: 1) Do you think Snow will believe Belle over Blue and 2) What kind of magic do you think that the (now disappeared) fae woman has left behind? _

_Next up is Chapter 15: "Necessary Evils", where Henry is reunited with all three parents, and Snow begins to ask the hard questions._


	16. Chapter 15: Necessary Evils

_**Chapter Fifteen—"Necessary Evils"**_

* * *

Everything started happening at once, and Rumplestiltskin found himself standing at the epicenter of a growing earthquake. Only the warning provided by a slight quiver of magic that preceded the sudden shaking and rumbling allowed Rumplestiltskin to stay on his feet at all; everyone around him—from Bae to the insolent royals to the nearby guards—tumbled to the ground. Tremor after tremor rolled across the landscape, and Rumplestiltskin didn't have to look over his shoulder to know that the castle behind him was starting to crumble.

"What the hell is going on?" Bae demanded, struggling to his feet. Another aftershock made the ground lurch, and Bae tumbled into his father, sending them both crashing to the ground.

Rumplestiltskin hit hard, and the wind rushed out of his chest. The impact brought back a rush of unpleasant memories, of pain and pressure and—_No. _The fae had been responsible for his pain then, and they were responsible for _this _as well. Grasping his anger tightly, Rumplestiltskin used it to focus his magic, sweeping his senses out over the subtle spell he knew was out there. He didn't pay any attention to the fact that he was still flat on his back on the shaking ground, just let his magic speed outwards and feed him information. What he found, however, was worse than he feared.

"Papa?" Bae was crouching over him and shaking his shoulder; figuring the spells out must have taken a moment longer than Rumplestiltskin expected. He blinked.

"Right here."

Quickly, Rumplestiltskin jumped to his feet, catching his balance carefully when the earth tried to leap out from under him again. Bae followed suit, swaying precariously but not falling when the next jolt hit. Again, Rumplestiltskin sent magic racing outwards, this time with more precision and less desperation, spreading his hands wide and absorbing the magic around him. It stank of the fae, subtle and tricky, a titanium fist sheathed in a colorful silk glove. And he wasn't wrong.

"What's happening?" his son asked again.

"What's happening is that I'm a fool," Rumplestiltskin spat. "I should have killed that fae when I had the chance."

Had he killed her quickly, she might not have had the chance to unleash the magic that was going to destroy the castle and everything around them. Probably.

"What did she—? Scratch that. Can you stop it?" Bae asked.

"No."

Given enough time, Rumplestiltskin was confident that he could unravel any magic, even clever and feisty fae spells that had been laid by someone who was probably eight or nine times his age. But he already knew that it was too late to counter this spell; this bit of magic had been created long before he'd knocked that fae to the ground, waiting and ready and carefully crafted over hours of work. And it was moving too fast to stop. The walls around the courtyard were already starting to tremble ominously. Dust was starting to fill the air, with the mortar between stones disintegrating quickly.

"Great. Then we need to get everyone out of here." His son spun away before Rumplestiltskin could get a word in. "Philip, start people moving out of the courtyard. Grimsby, clear everyone out of the castle and—"

"Bring them here," Rumplestiltskin cut in, foresight mixing with magic to warn him. "There's no time to get them away. The moment they pass through those gates, the entire structure will collapse."

Bae went a little pale. "You're saying the courtyard is the safest place."

It obviously didn't look safe, what with the walls shaking and dust starting to fly, along with random holes opening up in the ground while former prisoners screamed. The world around them was coming apart at the seams, and human nature demanded that they _run_, flee this apocalypse and get somewhere safe. But that was the catch, wasn't it? Rumplestiltskin could read the magic well enough to know where running would lead, much though the terrified spinner in him agreed with the mob around them. Soon enough, fear would make these people start to riot, and then anything he did would be too late.

"No. Nowhere is safe. Not here."

There was always a possibility that the fae had wanted to play the trickster as much as she wanted to destroy them, and it was conceivably imaginable that the courtyard would remain safe. That the shaking and rumbling and world-tearing-itself-apart feeling was just a _feeling_, and that if they stayed put, everyone would be fine. But Rumplestiltskin's instincts insisted otherwise, told him that although the destruction wouldn't begin here, it _would _come. What he could read of the magic in so little time was inconclusive. Could he afford to take that chance?

It probably wouldn't kill him, and he could protect Bae from the destruction if need be. Or he would whisk them both away to somewhere else in the blink of an eye. Had he still been the Dark One, Rumplestiltskin would have done so already. Baelfire might have objected, but by then it would have been too late. But he wasn't, and he couldn't, and the magic within him demanded something more. Something…responsible.

There was the word, the price, that he'd avoided thinking of for so many weeks. The cost he knew in his soul to be true, even whilst he'd tried to ignore it. Rumplestiltskin _wasn't _a hero type, and he didn't want to be. He only wanted his family to be safe and happy. He'd tried to die to make that happen, only to receive the unexpected gift of life…along with a burden he had never asked for. Never imagined. But here he was, and whatever he was, Rumplestiltskin only had one choice.

Could he do it? A bit over a hundred former prisoners plus Bae's thirty or so soldiers made for a lot of people. Rumplestiltskin had never really been one to bring others along when he felt the need to transport himself via magic, which meant the limit of people he had tried to teleport in the past was around ten, counting himself. Of course, he'd moved larger groups from point A to point B in the past, usually more to demonstrate his power more than anything else. Yet he'd never sent more than a dozen people anywhere, and here he was dealing with more than ten times that number.

A low rumble started behind him; the castle was beginning to shake itself apart. Rocks bounced off the ground, and someone screamed when they were hit.

"If you've got a plan, Papa, now's a real good time to execute," Bae said, his voice rough with urgency.

It was suicidal and stupid, but he had no choice. Not if Rumplestiltskin wanted his son to ever speak to him again, or if he ever wanted the others in this stupid alliance to believe he was better than he'd been. Gathering his magic, channeling his desperation and his love and even his fears into the thick threads surrounding the tightly clumped crowd, Rumplestiltskin turned to face his son. His breathing was already slowing, and his shoulders growing tense with the strain, but he resolutely ignored the telltale signs of _too much _and managed a tight smile. The magic _could _do this; that much he knew. The only question was how well his human-for-the-first-time-in-centuries body would take the strain.

"Hold on, Bae," he said with a breathless laugh. "This is going to be a rough ride."

Forget the horses. Bae's cavalry could get new ones, and this bottomless power of his was still constrained by the body in which its owner lived. Rumplestiltskin's head was starting to pound in tune with the waves of magic thrusting outwards from the dying castle, but the strands of his magic had almost wrapped around the entire crowd. A little bit further, and he'd be ready. Just a few more seconds. The air around them shimmered slightly, and he heard more than one person shout a terrified warning. His vision was starting to blur. The last thing he registered was his son's worried expression.

"Papa, what are you—?"

Baelfire didn't finish the question before Rumplestiltskin's magic snapped into place and he _tugged _with all the strength he had_._ And then they were gone, leaving King Steffan's collapsing castle behind.

* * *

At the same time the fae's magic raced outwards towards destruction, Regina teleported Emma, Hook, Robin, and herself into the Dark Castle's courtyard. They landed right next to a bubbling fountain—one Emma was certain hadn't been working when they left—instead of inside the castle surrounding gardens and plant life looked better, too; trimmed nicely and vibrantly alive. _At least we're away from Maleficent. She might not have died when I threw that sword at her, but I'm not sure it didn't make her crazy, _Emma thought to herself. Then again, she had no frame of reference. Maleficent might have been that way all along.

Regina certainly hadn't seemed surprised by her conduct, anyway.

"I thought you were going to bring us inside, love?" Robin asked, and Emma marveled at the way Regina didn't snap at him. The outlaw really _was _someone who could ask her anything, even questions that would have gotten Emma a surly and defensive response.

"I was." Regina scowled, waving a hand at the castle while Emma felt her magic working. "Rumplestiltskin must have reworked the defenses while we were gone."

_Typical. I wonder if he did that just to be difficult, or if there was some other reason._ Despite everything that had happened, Emma was finding it hard to get over her old mistrust of Gold, or whatever he was calling himself these days. She'd fought on his side a half dozen times, and knew that the wily old bastard was good to his word—but she also knew that he was a sneaky son of a bitch, and that he'd do things his way or not at all. Emma hadn't exactly been in the Enchanted Forest for long, but Robin and Hook had caught her up on current events while they'd been trucking towards the Forbidden Forest. She wasn't sure exactly what Gold's current game was, but until she could figure it out, her ability to trust him was definitely going to be limited.

"He told us not to come after you, you know," she told Regina, figuring that the other woman ought to know.

But Regina surprised her by shrugging. "I _was _fine."

"Hindsight being what it is, he was probably right," Hook replied, sounding unhappy to admit that Gold had been right about anything. He might have sworn off vengeance, but Emma knew that didn't mean that the pirate captain had to _like _Rumplestiltskin. "Yet we had no way of knowing that at the time."

"If there's one thing I know about Rumplestiltskin, it's that he has a depressing habit of being right," Regina replied. "But don't you _dare _tell him I said that."

Emma snickered, but she was soon distracted by shouting.

"Mom! _Mom!_"

She and Regina spun together, and both rushed forward to embrace Henry. A few years earlier, they would have both been furious to have to share this moment, but now it just felt right. Somehow, the idea of sort of sharing her kid with Regina had become just a part of life, so after a moment, Emma stepped back and let the Evil Queen embrace Henry alone. The last twenty-two days had been the longest she'd been away from Henry since Regina had stopped Pan's curse—but how badly must _Regina _had missed him over the last year? Emma knew they'd hardly had any time together before Regina disappeared, the older woman's love for Henry no longer seemed like a threat.

"You found her!" Henry beamed at Emma.

"Yeah, well, she kind of found us, too," Emma admitted with a wry grin. "It turns out that Regina didn't need as much rescuing as we all thought."

"Then Grandpa Gold was right after all," their son replied, earning himself a somewhat stricken look from Regina.

"Grandpa Gold?" the Evil Queen echoed.

Henry shrugged. "It sounds better than Grandpa 'Stiltskin."

That made both women laugh and exchange glances. Even Robin chuckled, although Hook just looked bored. Emma glanced at him for a moment, feeling herself flush red with embarrassment. Even though she knew it had been Maleficent's magic enhancing her attraction to the pirate and decreasing her inhibitions, Emma still couldn't shake the memory of being out of control like that. She knew that Hook didn't hold it against her, and that he'd even tried to be gentlemanly about her half-mad advances, but in a lot of ways, that only made things worse. Ever since having her heart broken, Emma had been so cautious with her feelings. Having them ripped out from behind the walls she'd built and on display for all to see was unnerving, to say the least. Particularly because she still wasn't sure what she felt for Hook. Maybe it was more than simple attraction, but maybe it wasn't.

Maybe Emma would be brave enough to figure that out after she managed to banish the memories of their time stuck in the forest. Until then, she had work to do. After all, Emma was the damn savior, and if Regina hadn't needed saving, she was sure someone else would.

"So, kid, what have we missed?" she asked Henry brightly.

"You know, that's the funny part. The Blue Fairy came by, and…"

* * *

Striding through the hallways of the Dark Castle with the old book in hand, Belle started planning how she was going to convince Snow that her family's patron fairy was plotting to steal her grandson. She'd walked up in the midst of Blue's 'private' conversation with Henry, right before the fairy had tried to convince Henry that he had to go someplace safe without telling anyone in his family. Was there another way to interpret that? Belle didn't think she was too influenced by Rumplestiltskin's naked mistrust for all things fairy. Blue _had _left things out of what she'd told Henry. Even Henry believed that the fairy had intentionally misled him, and that meant it wasn't just Belle channeling Rumplestiltskin's paranoia.

Seeing Ruby in the hallway just outside the chambers Belle had given the Charmings, she paused to ask: "Where's Snow?"

"Talking to the Blue Fairy," her friend replied with a shrug.

"Right _now_?" Belle's heart plummeted.

"Yeah. Why's that matter?"

Belle bit back a groan. "It's just—oh, Ruby, this is bad. The Blue Fairy tried to take Henry away, and now I know _why_—but Snow's going to believe her over me."

"You don't know that," Ruby replied, but it was obviously an automatic reassurance. "Wait a minute—_what _did you say? She tried to take _Henry?_"

"I'm not sure she wouldn't have whisked him away if I hadn't walked in when I did," she said with a nod, staring at the door in distress and trying to marshal coherent arguments. Snow had spent her entire life believing in the Blue Fairy, and Belle had foolishly let Blue get in first while she'd stopped to do research. How could she convince Snow that Blue was _lying_?

Thankfully, Ruby believed in Belle, and always had. Belle wasn't sure how they'd become such good friends in Storybrooke, but they had, and Ruby immediately moved towards the door to Snow's chambers. "Then let's go in there and tell Snow."

"Ruby—" Belle supposed she'd been raised too much of a lady, the daughter of a landed knight who would never so much as imagine bursting into a queen's chambers uninvited, even if said queen had been just an elementary school teacher in Storybrooke. Good manners demanded that they at least _knock _first! Ruby, however, had no such compunctions, and besides, she'd known Snow when Snow was nothing but an outlaw on the run. So, Ruby shoved the door open and marched in, with Belle helplessly trailing behind her.

The Blue Fairy was in midsentence when they burst in. "…afraid that Rumplestiltskin would—"

_That _hadn't been what Belle had expected to hear. Why would Blue bring her love into this?

"Rumplestiltskin would what?" she demanded before she could stop herself.

"Belle, Ruby, what are you doing here?" Snow's eyes were wide and shocked; she'd probably expected more decorum out of them, too.

But Belle didn't miss the way the Blue Fairy's eyes _narrowed _at the intrusion, anger flickering briefly across her face before her customarily lofty expression replaced it. Oh, Blue wasn't happy to have Belle in the room, which meant that she was trying to feed Snow some lie about Henry. The old book was still clutched in Belle's hand, and even though her heart was pounding in her ears louder than she'd like, she squared her shoulders. _Do the brave thing_. Belle respected Snow enormously, but that didn't mean Snow wasn't wrong to trust Blue.

Belle sucked in a deep breath. "I need to talk to you, Snow. About Henry."

"About _Henry?_" Snow echoed in confusion.

"Yes." Unable to help herself, Belle shot a look towards Blue. The fairy's lips were pursed and her eyes narrowed, and she glared back at Belle from behind a facial expression that clearly tried to be neutral. She didn't look very benevolent at the moment, but Belle was certain that if Snow glanced Blue's way, the senior fairy would manage to appear perfectly normal. "I wandered into the middle of a conversation I'm sure I wasn't meant to hear. In which the Blue Fairy tried to convince Henry to leave with her. Without telling anyone."

"That can't be—Blue?" Snow twisted to look at the fairy, and sure enough she had a compassionate expression on her face again.

"Of course it isn't, child. I am afraid that Belle must have misunderstood. I _am _concerned for Henry, because he is in great danger. Henry's heart _is _special, and I hate to say it, but Pan is not the only one who is going to want it."

"Like you," Belle cut in before Snow could reply, dropping the book on the table in front of Snow and flipping it open to the right page. "Read this, Snow. She's lying to you. And she's been lying for _years_."

Blue's eyes went wide. "I haven't—"

"Regina's back," Ruby said, standing by the window that overlooked the outer courtyard. Belle had given Snow and Charming this room because it was the nicest set of chambers outside Rumplestiltskin's own, and the gigantic windows provided an excellent view of the gardens that lay between the castle and the outermost walls. Those gardens were in far better repair now that Rumplestiltskin's magic had had a chance to do a bit of work on them, but even wild and overgrown, these chambers had been the some of the best. "Robin, Hook, and Emma are with her—and there goes Henry."

Belle stepped up next to her friend to look out the window, watching Henry rush out to meet his two mothers, both of whom hugged him tight. The sight made her grin, not just because she'd acquired a surprising amount of respect for the Evil Queen who'd once locked her away, but also because Blue's plans had just been gloriously upended. _She's never going to steal Henry away with _both _of his mothers back at the castle! _Still smiling, Belle turned back to watch as Snow picked the book up, reading swiftly. The dark circles under her eyes and the stress Belle knew she was under had done nothing to hinder the young queen's intelligence, and her eyes were narrow when she looked up at the Blue Fairy again.

"Is this true?" Snow asked Blue.

"Child, I have been working for millennia to keep darkness at bay. I will _protect _your grandson, not endanger him."

"At what cost?" Snow demanded, and Belle's breath caught. "You'll keep him from his family. Will you use his heart?"

"At whatever cost is necessary," the Blue Fairy answered stiffly. Snow glared.

"You didn't answer my question."

"I will keep Henry _safe_. There is—"

"_Whoa,_" Ruby gasped. "Holy cow—there's like a hundred people in the courtyard now. Maybe more."

Belle's head snapped around, and her jaw dropped. While Regina, Robin, Hook, and Emma had been alone in the courtyard moments earlier, now they were accompanied by hundreds of other people. Most of the newcomers were bedraggled and filthy, but Regina's hands were up and Belle could almost see the magic in the air—until someone stepped out of the crowd to stop her.

Rumplestiltskin. Belle blinked in confusion. She was happy to see him, but what _had _the infuriating man done this time?

* * *

"Regina!" Rumplestiltskin's shout barely caught the Evil Queen in time; Bae saw her hands moving in a blur, already glowing dark purple and sparking slightly. Their crowd of people seemed to have landed almost on top of her, but Regina was clearly ready for anything. However, even as Bae watched Regina pull the magic back, he stumbled dizzily. He still felt like he was stuck in the vortex of magic that had ripped them out of—

_Damn. _A moment ago, Bae had been standing next to his father in the wildly crumbling courtyard of King Stefan's castle, just waiting for the world to drop on their heads. Now he was standing in the courtyard of the Dark Castle, along with absolutely everyone else. The realization made him blink hard; what had his father said about this being a rough ride? Spinning left, he turned to stare at Rumplestiltskin, just as Regina shoved her way through the crowd to them.

"Papa?" he asked, feeling a little confused. The dizziness was receding, but Bae still felt like part of his body had been left behind a hundred-and-something miles away.

"What the _hell _did you do?" Regina demanded at the same time.

Even as Rumplestiltskin smiled, Bae could see that something was wrong. His movements were sluggish when he waved a hand in the air, growing paler by the second. "Don't ask questions to which you don't want to know the answers, dearie."

Then Rumplestiltskin collapsed before Bae could catch him. He and Regina both lunged to try, bumping shoulders as they did so, but neither made it in time and Rumplestiltskin hit the ground hard, his head cracking dully into the cobblestoned walkway. They both knelt next to him, and Bae was relieved to see that his father was breathing just fine, even if he was as pale as a ghost and suddenly looked thinner than he had before. _A glamour? Damn him! _How much else had Rumplestiltskin neglected to mention when he'd explained what had happened to himself? Bae swore under his breath as the Evil Queen turned to glare at him.

"Did he transport _all _of you here?"

"I think so, yeah—is he going to be all right?"

Regina made a face. "I have no idea. That much magic—it shouldn't be possible, even for him. He's unconscious. I don't know how long he'll be out for."

"Neal?" A third voice interjected before Bae could reply, followed hard on the heels by:

"Dad?"

He was on his feet before he even knew he was moving, but a smaller body collided with his own immediately, almost knocking Bae back to the ground. A strangled laugh burst out of his chest when Bae realized his arms were full of his son. Oh, he'd missed them desperately, Henry and Emma both, and had tried so hard to make himself _not _think about them all the time, to distract himself with battles and anything and everything else. His father had told him that Emma had gone off to foolishly try to rescue Regina—something that had worked out one way or another, judging from the Evil Queen's presence—but Bae had been on pins and needles waiting to see them himself, even if he'd tried to pretend he wasn't.

And now here was Henry, beaming up at him. Damn, the kid looked older, and different, too, dressed like he belonged in the Enchanted Forest and not in the modern world. Emma approached more cautiously, smiling that crooked smile of hers that he'd always loved so much. She was wearing what looked like Snow's clothes, too, a somewhat feminine outfit in beige and black that still gave her freedom of movement. It looked _fantastic _on her, too, though Bae knew better than to tell her that. _Not in public, anyway. Even in private, she'd probably hit me._ Still, looking at her hesitant smile made him grin. But he needed to say hi to his kid, first.

"Hey, Henry," Bae said. Had his father felt so woefully inadequate greeting him after not having seen his son for a year? That was an unsettling thought. Of course, thinking of his father made Bae look down guiltily, his heart leaping into his chest. Rumplestiltskin still lay on the ground, unmoving.

Regina must have seen him swallow, because the Evil Queen met his eyes with a crooked smile of her own. "We'll take him inside," she volunteered.

"Thanks," Bae breathed.

"What happened to Grandpa Gold?" Henry asked before Regina could rise. He was looking at Bae, but Regina replied first:

"Too much magic." She grimaced. "He should know better, but he shouldn't have been _able _to transport that many people, either."

"Will he be okay?"

Henry's eyes were big with worry, so Bae squeezed his shoulder. "He's tough, bud. He'll be fine."

Regina met his eyes briefly and nodded, making relief flood Bae's s system. Wouldn't it be a great cosmic irony if he gained some family back only to lose his father again? _Stop thinking like that, _Bae told himself firmly, flashing Regina a grateful smile as she rose, levitating Rumplestiltskin with the flick of her wrist. She headed towards the castle as Emma fell into step beside Bae and Henry. Meanwhile, Bae threw Prince Philip a glance, and was gratified when Philip started organizing the refugees. Bae probably _should _have dealt with them himself, but his father was unconscious, he hadn't seen his kid in a year, and he _really _wasn't up to dealing with stuck up royals at the moment. Thankfully, Philip seemed to understand that, and the prince got straight to work.

He, Henry, and Emma trailed Regina in silence for several moments before Emma finally spoke up. "So, uh, interesting day, huh?"

"You can say that again," Bae replied. Damn, he was tired. At least that was the excuse he wanted to use when he blurted out: "The Enchanted Forest looks good on you."

Emma blinked. "Huh?"

"The clothes, I mean. You look like you belong here." _Way to go, Bae. You sound like a moron, and she's spent how many weeks with the most suave pirate in existence? _This was definitely not helping his case. He flushed. "I think I'm trying to say welcome back."

"Thanks, I think." But at least Emma smiled, and she didn't look at Bae like he was stupid. Then again, she'd seen him sleep deprived and absolutely ridiculously brainless, living out of a car and dodging the law, so this couldn't be much of a surprise to her.

"Just back from rescuing Regina?" he asked, trying to sound a bit more intelligent. Or at least well-informed.

It was Emma's turn to grimace. "It turns out she didn't really need _rescuing._ And that Maleficent was screwing with us. Until Regina stopped her, anyway. It was kind of embarrassing, to be honest."

Unable to stop himself, Bae laughed. "Don't feel bad. Stuff always turns out that way around here." He'd almost used a stronger word than 'stuff', but their thirteen year old was walking between them and hanging on every word. "If it makes you feel any better, I spent a month chasing a pack of chimeras around, only to find out that they weren't real at all—they were just a spell of illusions cooked up by the Witch to keep us busy."

"Not really, no," Emma replied with an answering laugh, and Bae congratulated himself for at least providing some amusement.

"So, where have you been, anyway, Dad?" Henry piped up. "Aside from chasing fake chimeras."

"I've been fighting the war, actually. Commanding armies and stuff. With your other grandfather."

"That's so cool."

_That's my boy! _Emma didn't look enthused by Henry's opinion, but Bae's son was grinning. However, the responsible parent in Baelfire kicked in enough for him to say: "Sometimes. Other time it just sucks. I always figured war here would be more honorable than it was back in the Land Without Magic, but so far it's just been a slugging match."

_And I really _hate _slugging matches. _Bae had gotten into enough of those back in Neverland as a teen, both with Pan and with various other Lost Boys. It had never been fun or honorable, and everyone always wound up getting hurt in the end. This war wasn't shaping up to be much different from those experiences, despite the fact that they'd managed to pull off a string of victories lately. They were still missing something. Every instinct Bae had insisted that the worst was yet to come, and he really hoped his father would wake up soon so that he could ask him if he felt the same way. _I suppose having an old man who can see the future ought to be useful for something. Why didn't I ask him that earlier today when I had the chance?_

"Well, things always get worse right before they get better, right?" Henry asked, and damn Bae had missed his son's simple optimism and faith. _He must get that from Snow. My side of the family is too cynical by half, and Emma takes after David in that regard._ Still, Bae managed a half smile.

"I hope so, bud. So, why don't you tell me what the last year's been like for the two of you while I've been marching around in the mud?"

Henry rolled his eyes. "School and stuff. It was boring, really."

"It was normal, he means," Emma interjected with a hard look at their kid. "And now it's all weird. We both remember things that never happened." Her confident expression wavered slightly. "Like, I remember giving Henry up. And I remember deciding not to. I remember changing his diapers—but I _know_ Reginadid that. It's all so…I don't know what it is."

"Frustrating?"

Emma grimaced. "Worse." Then, without warning, she poked Bae hard in the shoulder. "I actually think you're the only one who _doesn't _have dual memories, now. How'd you get off scot free?"

"Oh, you know." He shrugged. "Spent two-plus centuries in Neverland. Walk in the park. No big deal."

"How'd you not go crazy being there so long?" Henry wanted to know.

_Who says I didn't? _But that wasn't the kind of thing you discussed with your own kid; Bae had a hard enough time dealing with it himself sometimes. He'd certainly come out of Neverland with enough emotional scars to sink a battleship, but he'd mostly dealt with those issues years earlier. "You come from stubborn stock."

"I already knew that," Henry laughed.

"Tell me about it," Emma breathed at the same time, rolling her eyes. "And you'd better not say that you mean me by that, Neal Cassidy!"

He chuckled, and then braced himself. Bae didn't really know how Emma was going to take this, but hell. They were in the Enchanted Forest, not New York City! "Actually, I go by Baelfire these days. Or Bae, for short."

Emma stopped cold, turning to stare at him. "…Really?"

Bae shrugged, feeling acutely uncomfortable. "It kind of is my name, you know."

"I know. I just…wow. That's, uh, different."

"Good different or bad different?" he managed to ask lightly, trying not to sound nervous. It was stupid that something so small as a name might come between them, but Emma had fallen for Neal Cassidy before he'd screwed it all up. He was still hopelessly in love with her, and absolutely _clung _to what she'd said in Neverland about always loving him (even if she didn't want to; he could deal with that. Bae could convince her to _want _to, assuming Emma gave him the chance). But would his acceptance of his old Enchanted Forest identity drive her away? Bae wanted to think that Emma was made of stronger stuff than that, but the last thirteen years really had been a roller coaster for her.

"Just different," Emma replied, and of course Henry piped up to break up the suddenly awkward moment:

"Does that make you General Baelfire instead of General Cassidy, then?"

Bae laughed. "Yeah, I guess it does."

* * *

_**A/N:**_ _Thank you for reading, and reviews/comments are cookies (and yes, I do love me some cookies. Why do you ask?). My questions this time around are: 1) What do you think the fae, particularly the Black Fairy are up to and 2) Do you think Maleficent's understanding with Regina extends to help against their new array of enemies?_

_Next up is Chapter 16: "Choices Made", when Rumplestiltskin wakes up, Blue owes some explanations, and the entire family sits down for a chat._

_Also, if you haven't yet seen my other OUAT story, "**At All Costs**", please do check it out!_


	17. Chapter 16: Choices Made

_Note:_ A new scene has been added to the end of the prologue as of 5 March.

* * *

_**Chapter Sixteen—"Choices Made"**_

* * *

Their bedchamber had become very crowded since Regina had delivered Rumplestiltskin to his and Belle's bed. The Evil Queen had exchanged a knowingly exasperated look with Belle as she did so, explaining that Rumplestiltskin had managed to knock himself out by using too much magic. Bae, arriving with Emma and Henry, clarified exactly what Rumplestiltskin had done this time, and while Belle was so very proud of him for saving that many lives, she really wished he'd found a less dramatic and less personally damaging way to do so. Now, Rumplestiltskin lay pale and unmoving on the bed while other people filed in.

Belle was tempted to kick most of them out. She knew how Rumplestiltskin valued his privacy, knew how much he often _hated _sharing his castle with the Grand Alliance, much less his own private chambers. However, the crowd was growing more quickly than she could decide who to eject. Regina had sent Ruby to find Tink, so Philip had crept in when the door opened; he was now in one corner talking urgently with Baelfire. Hook and Robin lurked near the door, with Hook watching Emma hopefully and Robin heading over to join Regina as she stepped back from Belle's side. Having the outlaw there didn't bother Belle, but why would Hook feel the need to watch over a man they all knew he still hated?

Thankfully, Ruby returned faster than expected. Belle's relief died when she spotted the frown on her friend's face, though, which was explained when the Blue Fairy followed Tink into the room. Snow entered last of all, but at least _she _looked concerned. Blue's face was unreadable, but was that a glint of fear in her eyes?

Tink started to move forward, only to have the senior fairy step in her way, wand in hand.

"What do you think you're doing?" Regina asked before Belle could protest.

A suspiciously angry twitch started in Blue's cheek, but her expression turned typically maternal when everyone looked at her. "Helping, of course."

"I'm pretty damn sure that Rumplestiltskin doesn't want _your_ help."

Belle could have hugged Regina for that, and shot the Evil Queen a smile from where she sat on the bed at Rumplestiltskin's side. Truth be told, he probably didn't want even Tink's magic near him, given how he felt about fairies, but Belle figured Tinker Bell was the lesser of the two evils. At least Rumplestiltskin had worked with Tink a dozen times over the past few weeks, and hadn't complained too much about her.

But the Blue Fairy didn't bother to reply, instead flicking her wand in Rumplestiltskin's direction before anyone could stop her. A slight glow enveloped both her wand and the sorcerer immediately, blue and shimmering, working its way over Rumplestiltskin from head to toe. Regina started to snarl something, and might have acted were it not for the way absolutely comical shock suddenly colored Blue's features. Eyes wide, the senior fairy lowered her wand in a jerky, startled motion, and the magic tapered off.

Belle, however, didn't care what stopped Blue, and Bae clearly didn't, either, because he pushed through the crowd to stand at Belle's side. "Don't you _ever _do that again," she growled.

"I…" Blue blinked rapidly, staring at Rumplestiltskin like she'd never seen him before.

Suddenly, the hand Belle held in her own twitched, and Rumplestiltskin's eyes flew open. "Surprised, dearie?" he asked Blue.

A stunned moment of silence passed.

"Your curse _is _broken."

"You just now figured that out?" Bae demanded, glaring at Blue before he glanced down at his father without bothering to wait for the shaken fairy to reply. Belle was so relieved to see his concern, so glad to see that the chasm between them had finally mended once and for all. "You okay, Papa?"

Rumplestiltskin sat up. "I'm fine, Bae."

Immediately, Belle watched his gaze flick around the room, taking in the crowd with a slight frown. From the way his eyes narrowed slightly, she could tell he wasn't happy, but he wouldn't show weakness by complaining. No, he'd file this away like he did any other grudge, save it and wait for his anger to die of old age. Or maybe he'd stuff it and mount it on the wall afterwards; Belle had seen Rumplestiltskin do worse. Surprisingly, however, his focus returned to Blue, just as Belle almost opened her mouth to tell her love what the fairy had been up to concerning Henry. However, Rumplestiltskin got in first.

"No need to look so delighted, _Reul Ghorm_," he drawled, sarcasm dripping from every word.

The fairy frowned but said nothing, and everyone watched the silent interplay between Blue and the former Dark One. A thousand and one things hung unsaid in the air between them, and even Belle only had an inkling about what was going on. The silence stretched onwards, heavy with meaning and…what? Finally, Snow cleared her throat.

"Blue?" the Queen asked hesitantly. _Of course she'll ask her. Blue didn't even manage to rationalize why she wants Henry, and Snow still wants to trust her. _"What's going on?"

"Oh, yes. Why don't you tell her the truth?" Rumplestiltskin put in, now on his feet and standing between Belle and Bae. "I'm already gathering that you're just as happy as your sister is with the fact that my curse is broken." His eyes flashed, and the frown twisted into a vicious smirk. "This might perhaps be the moment for you to tell our friends that Danns' a'Bhàis has escaped her exile."

"Who?" several people asked, and Belle's heart sank.

She'd read that book months ago, and she could figure it out from context—

"The Black Fairy," Rumplestiltskin answered cooly, his eyes still on Blue.

"That's hardly the most pressing matter at the moment," the senior fairy shot back, finally goaded into replying. Her eyes flashed furiously. "_You _have not been honest, either."

A low chuckle. "Have I not?"

"That curse was _designed _not to be broken."

"And now everything hidden behind it has bubbled to the surface." He smiled nastily. "Not quite what your sister planned, I know."

Belle's heart was beating very fast. The old book was still sitting on the bedside table where she'd dropped it when Regina brought Rumplestiltskin in. Hints in half a dozen other books suddenly all coalesced with the information she'd read months ago, and suddenly everything made sense. Her head snapped around to stare at her love, but he only raised an eyebrow. Belle burned to ask if she was right, and if his power came from where she thought it did, but the blasé look on Rumplestiltskin's face answered her question. She could _feel _the balance of power shifting.

"What _are_ you two talking about?" Snow cut in again. "Blue. Explain, if you would."

Apparently, even fairies didn't argue with that imperious tone, at least not if they wanted Snow's cooperation any time soon. The Blue Fairy sighed, gesturing calmingly to placate the queen.

"When the Black Fairy created the curse of the Dark One, she forced and elemental demon of darkness into the soul of humanity's most powerful sorcerer," Blue started, her superior expression back. "She structured a curse around that, so that the darkness in that sorcerer's power would be passed down, yet always tainted by evil and rage that it could not escape. Even in death, the power would transfer to whomever killed the sorcerer, ensuring that the curse itself would survive. Throughout the centuries, those who became the Dark One sought the power for its own sake, and were forever tainted by that evil. Most were controlled by another, but always unable to resist the Black Fairy's call—no matter who held the dagger, _she _could call it, and the Dark One.

"Some called it the perfect curse, the corruption of a human into a monster. For over one thousand five hundred years, the curse of the Dark One endured, with the demon all but un-slayable. Only the dagger that ensured the continuation of the curse itself could kill the Dark One, ensuring that the Black Fairy would always have a servant to call upon. Nineteen human men and women took on that curse or had it thrust upon them, each darker and more dangerous than the last, because curses grow over time. They terrorized the world, and it was all the fairies could do to contain them. Yet that was not enough. The Black Fairy built in other safeguards. She built the curse to resist even True Love's kiss, for a soul so corrupted by darkness does not want to be free.

"However…she did not count on a Dark One who took on the curse, and the powers, to protect his only child. Or one who would sacrifice himself to save those he loved."

Rumplestiltskin shifted slightly; Belle could feel his discomfort. Bae glanced his way, his face softening, but Rumplestiltskin's own expression simply closed off. To Blue's credit, she continued firmly:

"That sacrifice broke the curse, and broke the…power free of the darkness as well."

_Merlin's power_, Belle knew without asking. The Blue Fairy was carefully _not _using the name of humanity's most legendary sorcerer, and knowing Rumplestiltskin, he wouldn't mention that, either. He always liked to be underestimated, and Blue was obviously worried about saying too much.

Why wasn't she happy that Rumplestiltskin's curse was broken? Shouldn't she be? Belle felt her eyes narrowing as she studied the fairy. _Not _having the Dark One in the world had to be a good thing for everyone. Although Rumplestiltskin had sometimes succeeded in fighting the darkness back (at least compared to some of the things he'd told Belle his predecessors had done), he'd still been a creature of darkness, and really hadn't cared to stop himself much of the time. A world where that horrible curse was broken was certainly better off, and by all rights, Blue should be _delighted _about that.

Rumplestiltskin hadn't expected her to be happy, Belle recalled. She'd have to ask him about that later.

Snow, however, was still watching Blue with those same hard eyes, though her demeanor had softened slightly once Blue started offering explanations. "So what now?"

It was Rumplestiltskin who answered, getting in before Blue and earning himself a glare from the senior fairy.

"We defeat the Witch," he said bluntly, and then twirled a hand to emphasize his next point, his expression devoid of the nasty amusement he usually greeted the world with. "That won't be the end of this, of course. The Black Fairy is still waiting in the wings, using the Witch for her own ends. I'm sure she'll have something to say before this war is over. And then, one of these days, Reul Ghorm and I will have a little chat about her sister."

That last sentence hit hard; Blue's face twisted in fury and her composure shattered. She took several steps forward, pointing a rigid finger at Rumplestiltskin from only a few feet away. Normally the maternal and kind sort, Blue's wrath was something to behold. She _radiated _power when angry, and Belle saw several people shiver, stepping away from the fairy. _Original powers, _Belle reminded herself, fighting back the urge to swallow. _Just because she plays at being nice doesn't mean she is. Or that she _ever _has been._

"Curse or no, you may still be her creature!" Blue snarled.

Rumplestiltskin closed the distance between them, stopping right in front of her and looking her in the eye. "Dearie, I'm no one's creature, least of all Danns' a'Bhàis." He smiled lazily. "Or yours."

"The day will come when you're going to have to choose a side," the Blue Fairy told him, her eyes still ablaze and every rigid line of her body exuding magic.

"I already have."

His quiet voice and slight smirk made for a heady contrast with Blue's obvious fury, but Rumplestiltskin's eyes were dancing just as dangerously. Belle knew that he was at his most threatening when he was quiet; he only yelled when he was in a temper, and it was the soft spoken, methodical _planner _that people had to fear. His whispers were more dangerous than anyone else's shouts, and Rumplestiltskin looked down at the fairy derisively. Finally, he smiled.

"Now get out of my castle before I prove that I _can _throw you out."

In a flash of light, Blue turned fairy sized again, still only inches away from Rumplestiltskin's face and glaring at him. "We are not finished."

Rumplestiltskin laughed softly. "Indeed we are not."

Reul Ghorm left slowly, but leave she did, her face the picture of serenity and grace. She did, however, cast a glance over her shoulder at Tinker Bell as she headed for the suddenly open door to the balcony. The green fairy stared back at her steadily, her expression as shocked as everyone else's, but making no move to follow her superior. Pausing just inside the doorway, the Blue Fairy spoke once more.

"Come, Green. We are not wanted here."

Perhaps it was the use of her old name. Perhaps it was something else. But Tinker Bell straightened, her shoulders rolling back proudly as she frowned. "No thanks. I'll stay."

It seemed that Reul Ghorm had nothing to say to that, for she flew out the open door and left.

* * *

Once the Blue Fairy left, shooing out anyone who wasn't family was straightforward. Belle didn't explain her reasoning, but the look on _Snow's _face, of all people, said that this was important, and for Regina, that was enough. _I wanted to ruin her life not too many years ago, and now I'm trusting her. Isn't this just a royally screwed up world? _She accepted a quick kiss on the cheek from Robin when Belle threw the outlaw a look that said he wasn't welcome; normally, Regina would object to that, but the situation had gone from serious to dangerous in the blink of an eye, so she smiled at her lover and sent him on his way. Besides, Roland hadn't seen his father in almost three weeks, and that was reason enough to send Robin elsewhere.

She did smirk, however, when Hook objected to being shut out. The pirate had even less claim to be there than Robin did, but he'd thrown Emma a pleading look that Snow's daughter promptly ignored. Regina planned on staying well clear of the messed up love triangle that Emma had found herself in—unless it started to impact Henry, in which case she'd have no problem telling all three participants to pull their heads out and behave like adults. At least the tempest seemed to have calmed down to a minor rainstorm for the moment, or Emma was just plain irritated enough to ignore both of her potential lovers. Either way, things seemed quiet on that front, and she was glad. Regina really couldn't deal with Hook and Baelfire fighting over Emma. She already had enough of a headache.

Henry sat down between her and Emma, who, interestingly enough, sat next to Baelfire, who the idiot savior was still insisting on calling Neal. _Next you know, she'll be calling her mother Mary Margaret. _Regina tried not to snort out loud, but Henry definitely noticed her amusement.

"Something funny, Mom?" Henry asked her, and Regina smiled, wrapping an arm around her boy.

"Just life, sweetie."

"How is dear Maleficent?" Rumplestiltskin drawled as Hook, the last one out, shut the door. The question earned him several dirty looks—Regina wasn't the only one in the room who would like a few more explanations than the Blue Fairy had offered—but no one interjected, so she laughed. She knew how the game was played, and she and Rumple had been dancing around most of these people for years.

"She says the fae are back," Regina replied lightly. "And that she might be willing to help us against them."

"Oh, so now you believe," her old mentor snorted.

Regina smiled sweetly. "I needed to hear it from a more credible source than you."

"Of _course _you did, dearie." But several people snickered now, and Rumplestiltskin didn't look offended. Why would he? They'd made trusting and mistrusting one another their lives' work, and besides, Regina hadn't actually _disbelieved _him, or at least not lately. Once Rumplestiltskin proved that he'd come out of his ordeal more or less intact, Regina wasn't foolish enough to doubt the first-rate brain hidden inside his skull. She'd never thought the man was stupid, after all. Rather the opposite, in fact. He'd always been far too smart.

"So," she asked with studied disinterest, turning to glance out the open balcony door as she spoke, and wondering about which side Rumplestiltskin claimed to have chosen, "which sorcerer?"

"Come again?"

She shot him a hard look. "Don't try that, Rumple. You know what I mean."

"I'm certain that I haven't a faint idea of what you're talking about."

_Oh, yes. You're certain you have no _idea _what I'm talking about. Clever bastard and your wordsmithing. You don't have a faint _idea. _You know._ But was it worthwhile to press the point when he was so obviously reluctant to say? The fragile peace between them didn't always leave room for unwelcome truths, and wherever Rumplestiltskin's powers came from, he had an awful lot of them. For once, however, Regina was inclined to believe that was a good thing. He wasn't her enemy, anymore; he was an ally who was suddenly able to bully the world's most annoying bug into leaving. Anyone who could do that immediately earned a lot of points in Regina's book.

And he was her son's grandfather, which counted for a lot in this world, too. Particularly given the array of enemies they seemed to be assembling. When she added to that what Henry had started trying to tell her before Rumplestiltskin and company had shown up, Regina was happy to let Rumplestiltskin have his secrets. He did seem to have a habit of coming through when it counted, anyway.

"Of course you don't," Regina replied neutrally, wondering if someone else would pick up the line of questioning. If they were lucky, it'd be Belle, and he might actually answer _her_. The man was utterly besotted, after all.

Who was she kidding? Belle was no fool, either. She'd ask him in private. The younger woman did, however, choose that moment to speak up about something else after exchanging yet another ominous glance with Snow. _What _is _it between those two? Snow's never been Rumple's greatest fan, so it's got to be important if it has her conspiring with Belle, of all people._

"There's something else we need to worry about," Belle interjected bluntly. "I discovered it earlier today after the Blue Fairy tried to, um, convince Henry to leave with her."

"She _what_?" Under other circumstances, Regina might have been insulted to be shouting in synch with Emma Swan, but given that it was their son Belle was talking about, she didn't give a damn. She did, however, twist to stare at Henry.

Their boy nodded. "Everyone was gone except Grandma Snow and Belle, and I think Blue thought that was a great time to convince me. She started talking about how everyone wanted my heart because I'm still the Truest Believer, and said that she had somewhere safe for me."

"Because that doesn't sound suspicious at all." Surprisingly the sarcasm came from Baelfire and not Emma, though Emma added:

"Why wouldn't she talk to any of us, first?"

"Because she wasn't telling the whole truth," Belle answered. Regina's eyes narrowed.

"Henry, what did the Blue Fairy say to you? Exactly?" she asked, feeling rage boil up under the surface. Rage made for potent magic, she'd always known. Would it be potent enough to kill that annoying insect? She was willing to bet that she and Rumplestiltskin could do it together, and judging from the look on his face, he'd be more than willing to help.

"That someone—probably the Black Fairy—wanted my heart in order to control everyone in the Enchanted Forest," he answered with a frown. "The Blue Fairy said she needed to take me away right then so that I'd be safe, but I could tell she wasn't telling the whole truth. Belle came in, though, and the Blue Fairy didn't stick around much after that."

"What?" Now it was Emma's turn to snarl. "I thought we were done with that." She twisted to look at Rumplestiltskin. "Pan _is _dead, right? You being alive doesn't mean he is, does it?"

_Someone really needs to pay more attention in her magic lessons, _Regina thought to herself, watching Rumplestiltskin's face tighten.

"No, it doesn't, and yes, he is."

"Then why are we back to this Heart of the Truest Believer crap?" Emma demanded, and now Regina didn't bother to hide her own frustrations.

"Because it's _magic_," she snapped. "Magic that works for one person can work for someone else, the Black Fairy as well as Pan." _Except—wait a minute—_

Baelfire looked at his father, catching the inconsistency in Regina's argument immediately. "The Black Fairy doesn't need immortality, so why would she want Henry's heart?"

"I expect because Reul Ghorm wants it herself." The quiet response made Belle turn to look at Rumplestiltskin in surprise.

"You know?"

He gestured vaguely. "Let's just say that some memories are starting to bubble to the surface."

"Memories?" Regina asked before she could stop herself, and then shook her head. He obviously wasn't going to tell her, and they had more important things to worry about. "Never mind that. Back to Henry. Why does the Blue Insect want his heart?"

"Regina," Snow chided her gently, but she thought she saw a bit of laughter dancing in her stepdaughter's eyes. Emma certainly was amused, as was Henry, but Rumplestiltskin's face was hard to read, and Baelfire only frowned. Belle, however, continued:

"I'm exactly not sure. But I found this old book"—she held up a ratty old volume, slender and well read, much to Regina's utter lack of surprise—"that talks about the Heart of the Truest Believer. It's not just Henry. There have been others throughout history, and the Heart is considered one of the most magical items in existence. It can be used for a lot of things…none of which are really good for the person who the heart came out of.

"And…" Belle took a deep breath and glanced at Rumplestiltskin before continuing. "The Blue Fairy has done it in the past."

"Done _what_, exactly?" Regina asked when no one else would. _Damn these people! _Snow just looked sickened and disappointed, Rumplestiltskin didn't look surprised in the slightest—though there was something dangerous lurking in his expression—and Emma and Baelfire looked as confused as Regina felt.

"I'm not sure, exactly." Belle extended the book to her. "Page seventy-nine."

Resisting the urge to groan, Regina flipped the book open, noticing how the ancient pages crackled under her fingertips, and started to read.

…_When removed, it can grant a magic user eternal life, great power, or the ability to freeze time itself. When inserted into _another _being, the Heart can be used to magically bind that being to whom took the Heart from its host. It is said that both the Blue Fairy and the Black Fae committed themselves to great study of the Heart's magic, discovering that if long life can be granted to the host, the Heart itself will continue to provide power for centuries. Each captured and held at least one host during the first millennia of magic, testing both the limits of the power and its relation to the human host. By this time, the rivalry between the two Original Fairies was fierce, and although both uncovered further powers of the Heart, those were kept secret by their respective followers lest the other discover them._

_Perhaps because of its great power, the Heart of the Truest Believer is the most uncommon of the incidental powers, appearing no more regularly than once per each century. However, should the Host be killed before their time, should their lifespan be cut short by violence or trickery, another Heart of the Truest Believer will immediately manifest itself._

_It is said that the Heart is even powerful enough to trap one of the Original Powers. However, since the number of original powers (even including the Elemental Demons) has sharply decreased since the origins of magic, the likelihood of a Heart being used for such a purpose has likewise diminished. However, if placed inside one of the remaining Original Powers, it is theorized that the Heart might last as many as five centuries, allowing the Holder of the Heart to control even these most powerful of beings._

A chill ran down Regina's spine as half-forgotten lessons tried to swim to the surface of her memories. Regina had been too angry and too heartbroken to care about the history of magic as a young woman, and by the time she'd wished she had access to Rumplestiltskin's vast library on the topic, they'd already become enemies of a sort. Then, she'd been too proud to borrow books from him, and she'd been too busy during the last year, running from one crisis to the next and just trying to keep the Grand Alliance afloat. But she _did _remember his initial lessons on the three sources of magic, and Regina did know enough to remember what the Original Powers were.

"This is maddeningly less than helpful," she finally said, rereading the pertinent section with a frown. Of course, the author changed topics just when the answer they needed might have been relevant, and yet… There was something she wasn't seeing. Something they _all _weren't seeing.

"We'll have to ask her," Snow said unhappily, obviously feeling betrayed.

"_If _she'll tell us the truth," Baelfire pointed out with a frown. "And there's no way she's going to do that unless she thinks there's something in it for her. Like Henry's heart"

"I don't care _what _her reasoning is," Emma snarled. "She's not getting Henry's heart."

"I think we can take that for granted," Regina agreed, closing the book. She looked directly at Rumplestiltskin; this much silence was unlike him, particularly since he was finding this out with the rest of them. "So, how do we stop her?"

"Leave that to me," he answered simply, and the sneer on his face was definitely encouraging. Though she did have to wonder at his confidence—irritating insect or not, the damn fairy was powerful.

"Wait a minute," Snow interjected. "We have to _talk _to her first. We can't just—"

"The hell we can't," Regina cut her off, not really caring what argument her stepdaughter wanted to make. "This is Henry's _heart _we're talking about. I don't care what the Blue Fairy is supposed to represent—original goodness, light, or freaking love itself—if she wants Henry's heart, she deserves what's coming to her."

"I'm not saying we should give her Henry's heart, Regina, just that this _has _to be some sort of misunderstanding. She's always been on our side. She's _helped _us so many times, and she's _always _on the right side. Perhaps we can help her come up with some sort of alternative."

There were times when Snow's earnest optimism really did make Regina remember why she'd turned to darkness. Her stepdaughter really was sickeningly…_good_. How could Snow be so optimistic after everything that had happened to her? Not rolling her eyes took all of the self-control she had. Thankfully, however, someone got in before Regina could say all the nasty things that came to mind, or offer to rip Snow's heart out just so she could remember how it felt. _Bad idea, Regina_, she tried to tell herself. Damn, there were times that being evil was just _easier. _No one questioned your motives when you were evil.

"I'm sorry, but I'm with Regina on this one," Emma told her mother, her eyes still narrowed with anger. "Sure, we can talk to her about it, but that…_fairy _isn't getting anywhere near Henry in the meantime."

"Sounds good to me," Henry said in a small voice, suddenly sounding very young again. Hearing him like that made Regina's heart melt; damn the Blue Fairy for frightening him! Thirteen or not, he was still a child, _her _child, and Regina could kill Blue for that if nothing else.

Baelfire turned to look at Regina. "Is that spell you cast on Henry still good? The one that kept Pan from being able to rip his heart out?"

"Probably not since I left Storybrooke," Henry answered, glancing up at her. "Leaving where there's magic would banish the spell, right, Mom?"

Regina had to think about that one for a moment. "I think so." Though having places where magic didn't exist was rather a gray area when it came to magical theory, Henry's conjecture made sense.

"Can't you just cast it again?" Emma asked.

_Can I?_ Regina hated showing weakness, hated not being able to do _anything_, but Pan was one thing…an Original Power like the Blue Fairy was quite another. The insect had thoroughly understated her powers back in Storybrooke, or she'd been more hampered by the odd nature of magic there than anyone else. Here, however…

"I can try," she replied hesitantly.

"I'll cast it," Rumplestiltskin volunteered unexpectedly, and all eyes turned to him. He, however, looked at Regina. "No offense, Regina, but powerful though you are, your magic isn't quite up to resisting an Original Power."

"And yours is?" she demanded automatically, feeling her hackles rising.

Rumplestiltskin only smiled, and when his hands moved over Henry, casting the same spell Regina had used to protect him from Pan, his fingers glowed gold. To the untrained eye, the spell appeared normal but powerful, yet Regina could_ feel _this magic vibrating in her bones. Her breath caught in her throat. Tink had been right all those weeks ago. This magic wasn't like anything Regina had ever felt before. It wasn't the pure and vicious darkness Regina knew Rumplestiltskin once possessed; this was just intoxicating _power_. Even the spell he cast was multi-layered, the same magic conducted on a dozen different levels to make it impossible for even the greatest of fairies to overcome.

Regina shivered. He _wasn't _the Dark One now, but this was no normal sorcerer's power. What _was _he? What power had the curse carried down to turn him into this?

* * *

_**A/N:**_ _Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter – I was out of town for the weekend without a computer. Questions in this round: 1) Why do you think the Blue Fairy wants Henry's heart? and 2) Do you think that the Black Fairy meant for there to be so much power behind the curse of the Dark One?_

_Next up is Chapter 17: "New Beginnings", where Rumplestiltskin explains things to Belle and Bae, Regina "interferes" in the Charming family, and the Charming family finally gets some time together._


	18. Chapter 17: New Beginnings

_**Chapter Seventeen—"New Beginnings"**_

* * *

_"It will be over soon."_

_A gentle hand stroked Rumplestiltskin's cheek while he hung shuddering against the wall, blindfolded and flinching from every touch. His entire body burned, open wounds on his back scraping against rough stone, and the coward in him wanted to give in so badly. Would it be so horrible to be what he had been? To again possess all that power, the ability to protect himself and those he loved—_

_Except she had the dagger. What if she put the curse back in him and did not stop? He wouldn't be able to fight her, and while the fae held the dagger, he'd be nothing better than her slave. His family wouldn't be safe, even from him. Especially from him. Better to fight, terrified though he was._

The man in his memories admired Danns, Rumplestiltskin knew, shaking himself free of the memory. He had a vivid memory of standing between Danns' a'Bhàisand Reul Ghorm on a hill side, three powers united against an onrushing force no one of them could have stopped alone. He remembered fighting with both of them, united in their need to hold their world together against even the greatest of odds. They lost friends and stood strong, _together_, long before the sisters' differences sparked war between them, and then Merlin found himself the only force keeping them from tearing the world apart.

He remembered Danns under other circumstances, too, and realized that Merlin had been no great paragon of virtue. Merlin had not been particularly adept at fidelity, though he'd finally tried in his last days, spurning the queen of all fae for the half-human woman he had come to love. A distant part of Rumplestiltskin's mind tripped over that realization. Hadn't that been how one of the Land Without Magic's tales of _Beauty and the Beast_ started? With the future beast spurning an evil fairy, and then being transformed for his refusal of her? Odd how things ran in circles. But he'd still cared for the woman who trapped him, still stared at her in shock and betrayal when she had fastened slender bands of bronze around his wrists, ankles, and neck, blocking his magic and binding him against a wall just as Rumplestiltskin had once found himself.

_"Why?" he whispered brokenly._

_"I am sorry, old friend." She looked regretful but resolute, leaning forward to press a feather-light kiss against his lips. "But you balance us, my sister and I, and I would not have balance. I would have victory."_

_"You could have asked." The words tore out of him._

_Danns' smile was sad. "You would always choose humanity, Merlin. You have always been so very human, despite your origins." She stroked his right cheek, long fingers brushing tangled hair out of his eyes. "But now you will be with me always, and your power will mine to command."_

_"Danns—"_

_"Hush." Her hand shifted to rest over his mouth, and he stared at her helplessly. "You made your choice, Merlin, and I have made mine."_

He had said as much to Reul Ghorm not so very minutes ago, when she had told him to choose a side. _I already have_. The words had come from somewhere deep inside him, something Rumplestiltskin-but-not, a place driven by memories not entirely his own—and from his own burning hatred of being used. For three hundred years, he had fought his own curse's desire to warp him to its purposes, sometimes succeeding and sometimes failing miserably, but always because a terrified spinner had taken on the world's oldest and darkest curse out of love. And he'd never been willing to forgo the love of his son, no matter what dark promises the curse whispered in his mind. When he had lost Bae, that love only burned stronger...and he had met Belle, and had learned, really learned, that someone else could love him back.

No, he hadn't ever let the curse rule him the way it had ruled some of his predecessors, always twisting it to fit his ends and not once allowing someone else to come into possession of the dagger that could rule his soul. Rumplestiltskin would be no different now, and he'd be no fairy's slave, no matter what the circumstances.

That left him only one path to choose, and he'd already made his choice.

Magic tingled in his fingers, traveling like electricity up his spine. He'd sat quietly through the discussion concerning Henry, his mind whirling with power and memories. Knowledge flitted through his brain, elusive and hard to pin down; what he needed to know was there, but pulling it forward into his conscious mind was hard. Yet because he'd always been good at reading people, Reul Ghorm's suddenly wary glances his way told him that she _feared _him. Feared what he might do or be with his curse broken. Words spoken a millennia and a half earlier echoed in his mind.

No, she didn't want a third player in this game, either. Reul Ghorm wanted to be humanity's only hope. She wouldn't tolerate another Original Power mucking that up.

"So, now that everyone else is gone, will you tell Belle and I what's going on, Papa?" Bae asked with a crooked little smile, interrupting his thoughts.

Belle had shooed Regina and the Charmings out after Rumplestiltskin finished the magic to protect Henry. Vaguely, Rumplestiltskin had heard when his son told Emma and Henry that he'd catch up with them shortly, but first wanted to make sure his idiot father was all right. Of course, he knew that his son really wanted answers, but his boy was brilliant enough to know that he'd never open up with the Charmings around. Family they might have been through Henry, but Rumplestiltskin still preferred to keep his cards close.

"_Why do you fight me, Merlin?" Danns asked quietly, her hands on his—_Merlin's!_—face again. "You know I need your help. Without it, my sister will…"_

"_You're not looking for help," the man who had held out for far longer than Rumplestiltskin would ever have managed to said thickly, his voice rough with years' worth of pain. He was cracking and shaking under the pressure of decades like this. _Thirty years, Rumplestiltskin knew. It took her thirty years to shape her darkest servant. _"You want to make me into your slave."_

"_Then help me instead."_

"_Give you my soul, you mean," Merlin whispered weakly, and Rumplestiltskin knew the power racing through him, could feel it tearing into an already battered soul. He spoke defiantly, but there were too many fissures in once-strong defenses. Thirty years after his best friend had betrayed him, Merlin no longer remembered what he was fighting for. Her hands were wet with his tears._

_She looked at him sadly, but the vortex of power surrounding him never faltered, its tendrils digging into him, shredding his core, his heart, his soul._

"_I already have it," the Black Fairy replied, her hand slipping around to the back of his neck and _squeezing_ hard._

_Merlin cried out, and Rumplestiltskin felt him try to fight one last desperate time. The effort was doomed and he knew it, but he had to try. The vortex thickened, a whirlwind of darkness and power and _ownership_. The demon hovered just inches away from Merlin's chest, already slaved to the Black Fairy's will and waiting for the sorcerer to crumble. He was screaming now, helpless and weak, trying to breathe through the pressure. He felt every crack that opened up in his soul as they spread outwards like a spider web of wounds. Each new crack built upon the last. There was no soul ever born that could withstand the weight of three decades of pressure pushing down upon him like that._

_And yet—moments before Merlin's final resistance collapsed, Rumplestiltskin felt him box something off, push some doorway to his power aside into an area even Merlin could no longer reach. He locked something away—a key to the extraordinary powers he had been born with—and as the demon plunged into him it was _Merlin _who tied his power to the resulting curse._

"Rumple?"

Jerking back, Rumplestiltskin tore out of the blank-faced fog he'd been dragged into. The lingering memory of that darkness washed over him for several long moments, and he had to look down at his shaking hands to make sure they'd not gone gold and scaly again.

"Sorry," he whispered thickly, blinking hard. He _had _to stop doing this, had to get control of these memories and these powers. Yet—maybe he had.

The Blue Fairy's explanation had been largely redundant, at least as far as he was concerned. Oh, it gave Rumplestiltskin a framework to pin the memories to, but everything had fallen into place at Hubert's castle. There, he had suddenly realized where those memories came from, and instinct had told him that the power he'd gained had been somehow hidden by the curse that carried it along as an unintentional passenger. Danns' a'Bhàis had only meant to allow the darkness to follow the curse; she had meant for the rest of the power to die with Merlin. It had become useless; the original Dark One had been unable to access it, anyway. By the time her work had been done, Merlin had been nothing save a broken shadow of his former self, full to the brim with rage and pain that he burned to take out on the world. The demon inside him only pushed him further, and he had become the terrors from which nightmares were born.

But Merlin had made sure the power carried on. _Merlin_, not the Dark One, had known that someday his magic would be needed. And didn't _that _thought make a high-pitched giggle well up inside Rumplestiltskin, curse broken or not? The irony abounded: _he _was in possession of Merlin's powers. The poor spinner turned evil creature had inherited the mantle of the sorcerer made legendary for his attempts to protect humanity from the worst the world had to offer.

Damn it all. Everything made sense.

Belle squeezed his arm, and Rumplestiltskin took a deep breath, looking up from his hands to meet his son's eyes. "I'm sorry, Bae," he repeated. "I was…a little distracted."

"By what?"

"Ever since my curse broke, I've been seeing memories." He gestured vaguely at his head, wiggling his fingers absently as he tried to figure out how to frame this. Good with words though he was, how could he explain having the vestiges of someone else's soul rattling around in his mind?

"_Seeing _memories?" Bae was good with words, too, and certainly caught the odd phrasing.

"Not of my own," Rumplestiltskin answered. "It's as if the curse breaking unlocked something. I've always been able to catch glimpses of my predecessors, memories of previous Dark Ones carried along by the curse, but these are new. Eventually, I realized that they predated the curse itself. And I now know where they come from."

Belle spoke softly, a warm and reassuring presence by his side. She really was his anchor, and he wasn't surprised to see a tattered book in her hand. "From the same place the magic comes from."

Surprised, Rumplestiltskin turned to look at her, and the corner of Belle's mouth turned up in a pleased smile.

"I found a book," she explained, gesturing to the thin volume cradled in her lap. "About the history of magic. It talks about Original Powers."

"And you know."

Belle looked into his eyes, and no matter how hard he searched, Rumplestiltskin could not see any change in the way she viewed him, even knowing what he now was. It wasn't just power he had. Just as the curse had turned him into the Dark One, this power changed him, too_._ Belle spoke firmly: "And I know."

Relief washed through him. Part of him was ashamed to admit that he'd been afraid this might chase her away, but Rumplestiltskin had never been particularly fond of himself, and despite the depth of the love he felt for Belle, he often wondered what it was she saw in him. And the terrified corner of his soul that he would probably _always _carry with him was always afraid of losing her. Particularly after having been gone for a year. True Love or not, why wouldn't she try to find someone who might make her happy, someone better than him, younger and less stained by darkness? Belle, however, just squeezed his arm again and gave him a soft smile.

His son cleared his throat. "Not to interrupt your moment here, but I'm still kind of in the dark."

Belle snickered against his shoulder, and even Rumplestiltskin smiled at that.

"I suppose I should answer your original question, then," he began. "Reul Ghorm was mostly truthful in the information she shared…she just left out the name of the sorcerer."

"That fae called you…" Bae started, and then _stared_, and Rumplestiltskin could see his boy's mind catch up. "Oh, damn. That power came from _Merlin_?"

"Right in one."

Everyone had heard of Merlin. Hell, Rumplestiltskin remembered telling Baelfire bedtime stories about the legendary sorcerer—stories with questionable basis in fact, but stories all the same. He'd first learned them from the two spinsters who cared for him after his father abandoned him, beautiful and tragic tales of power. So his son was understandably shocked, particularly because Merlin was widely held to have been the most powerful human sorcerer _ever_ (a misnomer now, Rumplestiltskin knew, but that was only because history had somehow forgotten that there'd been three others of equal power; Merlin had only lived the longest). Bae seemed to need to swallow several times before he said:

"That's um…"

"A bit of a leap from where we started?" Rumplestiltskin finished for him, his voice soft. There'd once been a time when he would never have discussed his own humble beginnings—Belle hadn't even known about them until sometime after her father had tried to send her over the town line—but this was Bae.

"That's the understatement of all time, Papa," Bae retorted, but at least _he _didn't seem very disturbed by it. Then again, Bae had decided to forgive him as the Dark One; perhaps now he was just happy to hear that the powers hadn't started inside some legendary font of evil or something.

"It's more than that," Belle put in, looking at Bae and not Rumplestiltskin. Part of him wanted to stop her, wanted to cut off the explanations Rumplestiltskin could guess she was going to provide—but if he couldn't be truthful with these two, who could he trust? Three centuries of loneliness created hard habits to overcome, but for Bae and Belle, he would try. For her part, Belle only squeezed his arm again and continued: "Merlin wasn't just a sorcerer, Bae. He was one of the four original human powers, with power equal to that of the Blue Fairy…or the Black Fairy."

"It was her, you know," Rumplestiltskin admitted quietly, looking down at his hands again and forcing the memories of pain aside. _His _memories, this time, not Merlin's. "That held me for that year. She wanted to force the curse back into me. To make me the Dark One as she did Merlin."

Belle's smaller hand found his, and she squeezed his fingers tightly. Another deep breath, and then Rumplestiltskin brought his head up to look in his son's eyes again. No, he wasn't perfectly all right, but at least he _knew_, now. For that entire year, he had burned to know why she'd tortured him, and now he had the reason. Even if he still wanted to find a corner and shake until the trauma passed.

"But it didn't work," Bae said softly, and Rumplestiltskin was so glad that it wasn't a question.

He smiled tightly. "I had reasons to fight her. I had the two of you."

* * *

A month after they'd won his kingdom back for him, King Francis finally scraped up a general of his own and enough soldiers to defend his borders. The forts along their temporary frontier had also been rebuilt, which allowed David to pull some soldiers out of defending the entire alliance's borders and bring them back into the main army. It helped, of course, that the Witch's newest general, Shan Yu, seemed to want to focus on the Grand Alliance's biggest army rather than taking back territory, but for the moment Francis' kingdom seemed secure. That allowed Mulan to unite her army with David's, and now they were in the midst of planning their biggest offensive yet.

Working with the warrior woman wasn't quite as seamless as working with Baelfire, but they'd formed a pretty good relationship. Mulan was sharp as a nail, and tougher than anyone David had ever met, and damn it if she didn't make up for any lack of tactical finesse with good leadership and sheer tenacity. In the beginning, David had felt a certain need to defend her from some of their more bigoted types, but Mulan had quickly shown him how foolish that notion was. Even hard-bitten old soldiers were willing to follow her after that slip of a girl proved she could wipe the floor with the lot of them, and she certainly did do that. In fact, David was in the midst of watching Mulan tear into another well-bred moron who thought a woman had no place commanding an army and trying not to smile. Lord Avenant was a new addition to their force, related in some distant fashion to Belle, but clearly not from the side of the family that had any common sense.

"Enjoying the show?" a voice suddenly spoke up from his left, and David jumped, instinctively reaching for his sword.

Regina laughed. "I thought you knew how little good that did you against me."

"I never heard of you being immortal or impervious to harm," David retorted out of habit. Being friendly with Regina still sat oddly with him sometimes, but his stepmother in law was definitely _trying. _Hell, "camping with the Charmings"-type comments aside, Regina was always good to have around, even if you did have to deal with a greater-than-usual quotient of sarcasm.

_Unless Robin's around. Then she reminds me of Snow in some really disturbing ways._

"No, just likely to kill someone stupid enough to stab me," Regina replied with a sweet smile.

"Then I'll be sure to throw my enemies at you," he grinned.

"You won't be throwing anyone at anything if you don't get back to the Dark Castle soon," Regina said, raising an eyebrow. "Snow's in labor."

"She's _what?_" David's heart was suddenly in his throat, a feeling of guilt slamming straight into him. He _had _lost track of the dates, and he should have remembered that Snow was due any day now! But why was Regina, of all people, here to tell him this?

"In labor. Giving birth. Surely you know what that means by now," was the dry response. Regina even rolled her eyes, just in case David hadn't known she thought he was being an idiot.

He glared at her, not in the mood to be mocked. "Why are _you _here telling me this?"

"Well, I seem to have a history of interfering with your children's births in _some _way or another. I just thought I'd be nice enough to take you to the Dark Castle this time, instead of sending someone to stab you."

"Gee, that's nice of you." Still, David wasn't fool enough to turn down the offer. "Give me a minute to let Mulan know I'm leaving."

The Evil Queen shrugged. "Take your time. Judging from what Doc said—though I have _no _idea why you'd let a dwarf preside over the birth of your child—it's going to be awhile."

David ignored the jibe, and strode over to speak to Mulan. She'd already turned Lord Avenant into paste and was now talking amicably with their senior officers, but she turned to look at David as he approached, her sharp eyes zeroing in on him right away.

"Is something wrong?"

"Yeah—I mean, _no. _Not _wrong_, just, well, great." David shook his head and tried to make himself make sense—Mulan was staring at him like he'd lost his mind, so David took a deep breath. And ignored Regina's snicker. "Snow's in labor. I've got to head to the Dark Castle—can you hold things together here?"

"Of course I can," Mulan replied right away. "You go. You need to be there for this. For her."

"Thanks. As long as I don't have to carry this baby around while in a swordfight, I think I'll be okay," David couldn't resist adding with a glance at Regina.

She was the picture of innocence, while Mulan just looked confused. "I have no idea what you're talking about," Regina declared, but David saw a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

How far had they come that they could joke about this now? Somehow, their once deadliest enemy had become _family_, and David couldn't bring himself to regret that. So, when Regina held her arm out for him to take, he did so with no hesitation.

"I'll send Baelfire back if I can't get back soon enough for the next offensive," David promised Mulan. Surely Bae was done with that rescue mission by now, and he had no doubt that Regina—or Rumplestiltskin, if it came to that—could find Bae and let him know what was going on.

"We'll be waiting," Mulan promised, but Regina didn't give David a chance to respond. Magic _tugged_, and they were gone.

* * *

Emma had been present for exactly _one _child's birth in her life, and she hadn't really been paying much attention to anything except herself at the time. Of course, the fact that she now had _double _memories on that front only confused things further; everything happened in the same way until she suddenly decided to hold Henry and changed her mind—except she _hadn't._ Damn it all. Could she get Regina to forcibly remove the second set of memories? Did she want to? Emma had no idea, but it really didn't matter at the moment, because here she was, holding her _mother's _hand as Snow White started going through contractions.

"You've got some time yet," Doc told her mother solemnly, pushing his hat out of his eyes with one hand.

Really? Who wanted a dwarf to be your obstetrician? Were her parents barking _crazy_?

"Just, um, keep breathing," Emma tried to tell her mother, whose face was scrunched up in discomfort.

"I know. I've done this before," Mary Margaret—_Snow_—panted. "It's so much easier when you don't have the curse to end all curses bearing down on you and the wardrobe isn't finished."

Despite herself, Emma grinned. God, she hated the Enchanted Forest sometimes. Childbirth belonged in a proper hospital, with doctors and nurses who understood the need for sterilization and all those other medical procedures. Even _prison _had been better than this! Here, Snow was propped up in an admittedly huge and gorgeous bed in an enchanted _castle_, of all places, with a dwarf and a fairy looking on. At least it was Tinker Bell and not that bitch of a Blue Fairy _who had tried to steal Emma's son. _Chief of the "good" fairies or not, Emma wasn't going to forget that. Not this side of eternity ending, anyway.

"So, no big deal, right?" she asked, pulling her mind away from the still-brewing anger over what had happened while she and Regina were gone. Gold knew more than he was letting on, of course, and Neal—or Baelfire, she supposed—had better have gotten some answers by now. But he'd tell her when this was over. Emma knew that.

"It won't be if your _father _gets here sometime today," Snow hissed as a contraction hit. "Where _is _he?"

"Regina went to get him," Tink supplied helpfully, earning herself a glare.

"Then tell my _evil stepmother _to hurry the hell up!"

No one bothered to point out to Snow that Regina wasn't there to tell, or that by the time someone sent a message via tablet, which had to be read on the other end, Regina would probably be back with David. Emma didn't bother to point out that Snow and Regina seemed to get along well these days; she knew all about the stupid things women said while giving birth. She'd roundly cursed Neal, her unknown parents, and the universe in general while giving birth to Henry. Besides, she had the feeling that Regina still didn't mind that label very much. These days, it was likely to make her laugh.

"I'm sure he'll be here soon," Emma tried to soothe her mother, but she should have known better.

"This is his fault," Snow snarled. "It's _always _his fault."

"At least there's no wardrobe to wait on this time?" Not that Emma remembered being born, but she'd read that bit of Henry's book several times before she'd torn the pages out and burned them.

Snow laughed breathlessly. "No, just a beautiful daughter holding my hand."

"Mom…" The word escaped before Emma could stop it, and she felt a smile softening her face. Their relationship was still rocky; she was _older _than her parents, for crying out loud, and that would never stop being awkward. But she knew they loved her, and she loved them, and sometimes that was enough.

"I love you, Emma. You know that, right?" Snow said as if she could read her mind. She looked so sad that it broke Emma's heart.

Emma's eyes were suddenly a little misty. "I know," she whispered. "I know."

The door burst open before she could figure out something else to say, for some way to ease the irrational grief she knew that her mother was feeling. Emma had always been a little angry with her parents for abandoning her, even when she'd known they sent her away to save her. But how hard had it been for them, sharing only a moment or two with their newborn before giving her up? That pain was precisely what the original Emma had wanted to avoid when she'd refused to hold Henry…and the thought of letting her child go had made her cling to him in the memories Regina had given her. Speaking of the Evil Queen, her voice sang out:

"No need to get up, dear Snow. We've arrived." Regina swept through the doors like the queen she technically wasn't any longer, elegant, graceful, and still more than a little dark.

"Snow!"

And there was her father, rushing to her mother's other side to grip her hand. The world's goofiest grin decorated his face, and Emma almost turned away as the two of them kissed. _They never stop, do they?_ Just watching the depth of her parents' love made Emma's heart ache. It was like watching Regina with Robin, or—frighteningly enough—Rumplestiltskin with Belle. She _wanted _that. She'd spent years telling herself that she'd never let someone break her heart again…but she wanted love like that.

Then her mother's hand closed on hers hard, and Emma banished those thoughts, too, just in time for Regina to turn for the door.

"Regina?" Snow's voice was surprisingly small, and Emma's head whipped around to look at the hesitant expression on her mother's face.

"Yes?" the Evil Queen asked cautiously.

"I wouldn't mind if you stayed," Snow said quietly, and Emma could hear the plea in that. Snow didn't want Regina to feel obligated to stay, but she wanted the older woman to _want _to stay. For all the pain and anger between the pair of them, Emma sensed that there'd once also been love, as well. _And Regina's technically my step-grandmother. How weird is that?_

Regina started, blinking awkwardly. Then a tiny smile crossed her face, and she sat on the bed next to Emma. "I'll stay, then," the Evil Queen said quietly.

Snow cried out as another contraction hit her, but her suddenly wide smile never wavered. Emma exchanged a glance with Regina, a warm feeling sneaking through her. This was nothing like she'd expected when she'd finally embraced the fact that she was the savior and had to break the curse, but since when did things go according to plan? They were an odd family, but a family they were.

* * *

Two hours later, Emma couldn't stop staring at the angry red bundle in her father's arms. Her mother was red faced but grinning while Tinker Bell provided the necessary magic to clean Snow up—and okay, that was a nice convenience they didn't have back home—and Doc had just finished checking the baby over. Even Regina seemed pleased if a bit uncomfortable; Emma was willing to bet that Regina had never stuck around for someone to give birth, either, and despite being a mother, Regina didn't have her own personal experiences to fall back on. Her father, of course, was grinning from ear to ear as if he'd done some of the work himself.

Sometimes it was a relief to know that even her super-brave, extra-charming, and all-around-perfect father could just be an idiot man, too.

"Emma," her father said quietly, extending the squalling baby to her. "Meet Graham."

The floor dropped out from under her, and Emma thought she heard Regina make a small noise from her left. "Graham?" she whispered.

"We couldn't think of a better or braver man to honor," David replied as Emma finally remembered to take her baby brother into her arms.

"Hello, Graham," Emma whispered, cradling the baby close. God, it was awkward having a baby brother thirteen years younger than her own son, but little Graham was adorable. "I'm your sister."

He didn't do much other than cry, but he _was _a newborn. Still, he seemed to pause to look up at Emma for a moment, and that made her melt.

"I always wanted a little brother," she finally managed to say.

"Really?" Snow asked.

Emma smiled. "Better than a little sister who wants me to play dress up with her." She reached out a finger to touch Graham's cheek. "Baby brothers want to climb trees, don't you? I know how to do that."

Her parents laughed, and Regina joined in, even if her chuckle did sound a little watery. Snow sat up and extended her arms, and Emma handed Graham to their mutual mother, who smiled down at him adoringly. A tiny part of Emma had expected to be envious of this child, of her formerly unknown sibling who would get to know their parents from the beginning of his life onwards, but she didn't, surprisingly. Maybe it was because she was a mother, too, or maybe she'd just finally grown up.

"Regina?" Snow asked quietly, and the woman to Emma's left started.

"Yes?"

"We'd like you to be Graham's godmother," Snow replied, and Emma watched the color drain out of Regina's face.

"If you're willing," David added, and Emma was pretty sure that Regina was going to cry.

"Of course I am," she whispered. "You just try and stop me."

* * *

_**A/N:**_ _I think this might be the most answer-full and fluffy chapter I've ever written. Fluff's not normally my forte, so tell me if you think the characterizations did/did not work here. Questions for the coming chapters: 1) Do you think that the Blue Fairy is going to change tactics and 2) Do you think anything untold will happen with the army while Charming is gone?_

_Next up is Chapter 18: "Calm Before the Storm", where the Buffalo-Leather Soldier is back, Excalibur makes an appearance, and King David has to play hero._


	19. Chapter 18: Calm Before the Storm

_**Chapter Eighteen—"Calm Before the Storm"**_

* * *

The first two weeks after Prince Graham's birth were quiet. Surprisingly so, actually. Even the Witch's armies seemed willing to give them a break; Mulan reported no further attacks, and the few raids she sent soldiers out on went almost unopposed. Most of the residents in the Dark Castle voiced the opinion that the lack of resistance finally meant that the Witch's forces were overextended and on the ropes, but Bae wasn't so sure. Maybe it was that sixth sense of paranoia acting up again, or maybe he was just too cynical to believe anything would be this simple. Either way, he and Rumplestiltskin seemed to be the only ones wondering why things suddenly seemed to be looking up.

Still, plans for little Graham's christening were well underway, invitations going out to every monarch and important dignitary across the Enchanted Forest—heck, Snow White was even crazy enough to invite the Witch, provided she attended under a flag of truce. _Then again, don't half the stories start with a monarch snubbing some evil magic user, and _that's _why their baby gets cursed? _The last few decades of drama in the Enchanted Forest were well after Bae's time, but some things never did seem to change. It probably was wiser to invite the Witch, provided she came on her best behavior. And Snow was far from a fool.

Emma's mother, unfortunately, apparently _didn't _understand her own daughter very well, which was how Bae got stuck in the middle of the world's most uncomfortable conversation.

Emma's face was rather red by the time Bae and Henry walked in, having been told by Hook that Emma was in Graham's nursery but not that he was interrupting some mother-daughter argument time. "Look, it's not that I have anything against dresses, but I'm far from a princess—"

"Actually, that's exactly what you are," Snow cut her off.

"Well, technically, but—"

"No buts," her mother cut her off again. Had it not been for the fact that she was cradling baby Graham very tenderly, Bae would have called Snow's implacable expression frightening. As is, it was simply, well, unyielding. "You _are _a princess, Emma. You're the heir to two kingdoms."

"I don't want to be Queen of anything!" Emma squeaked, and Bae couldn't remember ever having seen her so frightened, even when facing down Cora or robbing a convenience store for the first time.

"It's not about what you want, Emma. It's about the responsibilities that your birth entails."

"I'm older than you are!" Emma protested. "And I'd make a horrible Queen. Just ask Neal—or Bae, whatever you are. We met when I was trying to steal the car he'd already stolen, for crying out loud!"

"I'm not getting into this," Bae protested even as both women turned to look at him, holding his hands up, palm out, as if to fend them off. "No _way _am I getting involved in this conversation."

"You were trying to steal an already stolen car?" Henry asked his mother, not helping at all. "You never told me that story! That's so cool."

Yeah, the kid was at the age where thieves and rebels were cool, wasn't he? No wonder why he liked Robin Hood so much. Those two were already getting along like a house on fire, much to Regina's pleasure. But maybe Bae could use that fascination, even if it was bad parenting. He turned to throw his son an exasperated look.

"I'll tell you that one later if you back me up here," he wheedled. "But I think this is a conversation that your mom and your grandmother need to have on their own, don't you?"

Henry shrugged. "I dunno. It seems kind of important."

"_Thank _you, Henry," Snow said, every inch the queen.

Bae and Emma groaned together. Henry, ever the honest little optimist, arched an eyebrow at his father.

"Don't you think it's important, Dad?" he asked, and wasn't _that _a loaded question.

"I'm just a spinner's kid from the Frontlands, Henry. This royalty thing is _way _beyond me," Bae retorted.

"Spinner?" Henry echoed curiously, and Bae cursed himself silently.

"Long story," he said hastily. He'd forgotten that history seemed to have forgotten his father's background, but Bae knew that it wasn't something Rumplestiltskin discussed. Given his own experience with obnoxious royals, it was probably best to let the lot of them think that Rumplestiltskin (and by extension, Bae) had come from better stock than the dirt poor peasantry. _God, what will the Charmings think of that one? _If Emma was getting lectures now on acting like a princess, what would happen if Bae tried to press his suit? Damn this world for being so class conscious and complicated. Still, he had to say something before Henry asked more. "I'll tell you some other time."

Henry deserved to know, at least, and Bae knew his father would agree with him. But then Henry hadn't grown up here, either, so he'd be a lot more open minded. And probably think it was cool, somehow.

Thankfully, Snow was too focused on Emma to jump down that rabbit hole. Putting Graham back into his gorgeously decorated crib, she straightened and looked at her daughter again. Regally.

"Emma, all I am asking is that you take a few lessons on proper etiquette. It's not much to ask. We've already got a gown that can be altered to fit you—and I know you'll look _lovely _in it. I just don't want you to be at a disadvantage, that's all."

Oh, Snow White was brilliant. Flat out brilliant. Emma, however, looked at Bae for backup.

"I'm just a kid from the system who happened to break a curse," she whispered, and he probably would have hugged her if Snow hadn't taken her hands tenderly.

"I bet you'll look great," he said instead, throwing her a crooked smile and a self-conscious shrug. Knowing Emma, she might hit him for that remark, but instead it got a watery smile in return. _Man, this really is getting to her._

"It's not that," Emma muttered, still looking miserable. "It's—"

A pounding on the doors cut her off, and immediately, Graham started to cry. Snow said something absolutely un-queen-like under her breath as she picked up her now wailing baby, and Baelfire strode over to the doors. Tearing them open—nothing less would stop the banging, and in turn Graham's bawling—Bae found himself face to face with a very startled dwarf. Not having grown up anywhere near their time period, he had a hard time telling Snow White's seven pet dwarves apart, but he _thought _this one was Sneezy. Or maybe Dopey.

"What kind of idiot _are _you?" Bae hissed, gesturing at the baby as Snow tried desperately to soothe her son. _Got Emma's temper, that one. Wonder where they both get it from such level-headed parents?_ "Who bangs on the nursery door loud enough to wake the dead?"

The dwarf flushed red. "I, uh, Prince James—I mean King David—sent me to tell Queen Snow that there's a herald at the gates. There's some soldiers, too. One of them has issued a challenge."

"A challenge?" Snow echoed immediately, handing Graham over to a startled Emma so that she could stride over. The queen's eyes were suddenly fierce, but that didn't overcome the sinking feeling in Bae's chest. "To whom?"

"King David," Sneezy replied. "The Buffalo-Leather Soldier has challenged him to single combat to end the war once and for all."

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Bae stood between his son and the woman he loved, listening to her parents discuss the pros and cons of David accepting this unexpected challenge. They were both in favor of ending the war as quickly as possible, of course; Snow didn't seem terribly excited to have the father of her newborn risking his life, but her straight-backed posture barely hinted at those misgivings. Whatever else she was, Emma's mother was one hell of a queen, and Bae respected her more and more by the moment. Despite Emma's objections to being styled a princess, she really was a lot like Snow, particularly now with her eyes blazing fiercely and fastened on her father.

"The Witch is here," Regina said unexpectedly, striding back into the great hall. Once the challenge had been made and enemy forces had arrived, the Evil Queen had headed up to the battlements to spy on the enemy. Although Philip was in temporary command of the soldiers stationed to protect the castle while everyone else was in this meeting, they all knew that the Dark Castle's strength lay in its magical defenses. So, it paid to send a sorcerer to gauge the enemy's ability to deal with them.

"She is?" David's eyebrows shot up, and then he grinned. "I guess they're serious, then."

Several people murmured in agreement, but oh, some of the spectators looked nervous, particularly King Hubert and Queen Leah, both of whom had been invited due to their rank but really weren't a part of this council. They did, however, have more experience with the Witch than most of Snow and Charming's inner circle, and Bae couldn't help noticing their unease.

Maybe that was why he could hold his silence no longer, and had to point out: "I'd say it's damn serious, since you already killed the guy you're supposed to be fighting. Let's not forget that little fact."

David grimaced. "Someone must have healed him before he could die."

"Not the Witch," Regina pointed out immediately.

"There were rumors that a woman saved the Buffalo-Leather Soldier," David replied thoughtfully just as Bae remembered the same thing. "Red haired, dressed in silver and black. I never believed it, but—"

"What did you say?" Rumplestiltskin interjected, speaking for the first time, and Bae turned to look at his father with everyone else. He was seated where most everyone else was standing, sprawled in a high-backed chair and the picture or relaxation, but his brown eyes had narrowed when David spoke. There was something in him that reminded Bae of a coiled spring. He was ready for anything—perhaps not physically, but certainly on a magical front.

He loved his father—always had, even when he was furious and heartbroken—but there were times Bae really wished that he understood what was going on behind that mild expression. Bae had spent two and a half centuries stuck in Neverland, never aging and never maturing, but Rumplestiltskin had _lived _those years. He'd changed enormously from the simple spinner he'd been, and not just in the terrifying ways that the curse had altered him in the beginning. Bae knew better than most that the native intelligence had always been there, but sometimes it was like his father's mind worked on a different level from everyone else's. Of course, Bae completely understood how a few centuries' perspective could impact the way you viewed the world, even if his had been stuck at fifteen. How much of a difference did it make to watch the world go by during those years? Experience had colored his father as much as the curse ever had, or maybe more.

"Some of our soldiers said that they saw a red haired woman in silver and black save the Buffalo-Leather Soldier," David repeated as Bae mused. "Since he's here, whoever that was must have healed him."

"Of course she did." Rumplestiltskin's expression darkened. When he spoke, his voice was sharp, more reminiscent of the Dark One than anything else. "And that, ladies and gentlemen, would be the Black Fairy. Danns' a'Bhàis. It seems she's joined our little war."

Belle flinched from his father's right, and Bae swallowed.

"How do you know?" Snow spoke up, sounding more curious than doubtful.

"Because I spent a year in her company, dear," Rumplestiltskin replied. "And not voluntarily."

Even Snow flinched when Rumplestiltskin threw that one out, referencing the year he'd been 'dead' while none of them knew where to look for him. No one spoke of what he'd endured because Bae's father seemed to prefer to act like it hadn't happened, but now the fact that the world's darkest fairy had managed to hold _Rumplestiltskin _for an entire year sent an undercurrent of fear racing through the room. Rumors about Rumplestiltskin's treatment at the Black Fairy's hands had spread quickly around the Grand Alliance, but Bae actually knew that the stories understated how bad things had been. Belle had pulled him aside to share some of the details with him because his father wouldn't, so he understood how the Black Fairy had been able to hold Rumplestiltskin, in addition to why she had wanted to.

Oddly enough, only his father seemed unaffected by everyone else's anxiety, and a slight smile made his lips twitch.

"You might say that I've come to know her well," Rumplestiltskin continued dryly. "And if she chose to heal this Buffalo-Leather Soldier, nothing good will come of that. Not for us."

"It's not like she can make him invincible," Emma pointed out warily. Then she glanced at Rumplestiltskin. "Can she?"

"She might have already." It was Regina who answered. "The Buffalo-Leather Soldier is standing with the Witch out there, but from what I could tell, there did seem to be some magic on him."

Bae grimaced and spoke up again, ignoring the dirty look King Hubert shot him for daring to intervene in a conversation properly belonging to his betters. _Nope, he's never going to like me. Guess that means I don't have to care what he thinks._ "Is it even worth fighting him, then? We already know that the Witch won't keep her word—look at the _last _parley she offered."

"I know," David sighed. "And yet…"

"Who are we if we don't try?" Snow finished for him. "Over half the kingdoms in the Enchanted Forest are still under the Witch's control. We can't ignore this opportunity to save them."

Heads nodded around the room, and Bae bit back a frown. Even if this wasn't some point of honor—which made royals do funny things—the odds of this challenge going downhill fast were high. Yes, there was an enormous potential gain, but only if their enemy was also feeling honorable. An exasperated sigh came from his side, and Bae was surprised to see Emma throw a frustrated glance his way, silently commiserating with what he'd said. He shot her a lopsided smile and a shrug, glad to see that he wasn't the only one who thought this foolish. Fortunately, when Emma spoke up, everyone listened to her like the princess she was.

"Look, I didn't grow up here, so maybe I'm missing something. But why should we bother with this if the Witch is going to cheat?"

Regina snorted, looking amused. "Evil always cheats."

"Because no one will believe in us if we don't try," Snow answered earnestly.

David nodded, agreeing immediately. "I can't very well say that I was afraid to fight in case the enemy cheated. No soldier would ever follow me again." He smiled wryly. "Heck, _I _wouldn't follow me."

Every royal in the room looked satisfied, and even Bae couldn't argue with David's more practical logic. The world was just plain stupid sometimes, and the Witch had pushed them into a corner with this one. If David even _appeared _to be afraid to face the Buffalo-Leather Soldier in combat, the Grand Alliance might start to fracture. After all, King David was their war leader. He was the one that armies loved to follow, not Prince Philip, Mulan, or even Baelfire. They were all competent enough, but David was the charismatic leader that held the army together. _And now he's going to risk his life. How freaking brilliant is that? He'll probably wind up as a martyr when this bastard kills him, but he'll still be dead._

If there was one thing Bae had learned in Neverland, it was that fights against an invincible opponent never turned out well.

"Of course you need to fight this challenge, dearie," his father spoke up again, shattering the silence. "But I trust you'll not be adverse to an advantage of your own?"

"What, are you going to make _him _invincible?" Emma demanded sarcastically.

"No." Surprisingly, Rumplestiltskin answered that straight, without even a chuckle. "You wouldn't like the cost of that magic. Or what it does to you in the long run."

"Then what do you have in mind?" David asked curiously, but Rumplestiltskin was on his feet before the king finished voicing the question, striding over to a set of brackets near the far wall.

A broadsword sat in those brackets, parallel to the floor and set well apart from everything around it. Like most of the treasures in the Dark Castle, it had remained untouched during the Grand Alliance's occupation. Even Belle didn't know what magical properties most of objects Rumplestiltskin had collected over the years possessed, and they'd all been loath to touch something lest it curse them, or worse. So the sword—useful though it might have been in a war where they could always use another weapon—sat gathering dust until Rumplestiltskin's return, upon which he'd promptly ignored it and almost everything outside his work tower. Now, however, he lifted the sword easily in his right hand, swinging it in a short arc until the point faced David. The sorcerer smiled.

"Excalibur, of course."

"Excalibur?" the king echoed, and then sighed in annoyance. "Come on. I've played this game before."

Rumplestiltskin chuckled. "Not the little bauble you tried to use to fool your darling True Love, dearie. _Excalibur._ The real deal."

He tossed the sword, and Bae shivered while he watched the silver-colored blade flipped end over end, floating through the air. David caught it easily, but not before an odd shimmer filled the great hall. That sword was magic, old and deep. David must have felt that, too, because a long moment passed before he could tear his eyes off of the blade.

"You had your legends a bit mixed up when you told Snow that Excalibur could only be used by a kingdom's true heir," the sorcerer told the king. "A sword isn't that picky. But Excalibur _is _capable of cutting through any enchantment the Black Fairy has put on her Buffalo-Leather Soldier. It'll even kill the Witch, if you can get close enough to do the deed."

_That _got everyone's attention, until Rumplestiltskin grinned wickedly. "Or the Black Fairy, but I _know _she won't give you the opportunity."

"Excalibur is a secondary power," Belle breathed, and Bae's father's smile softened when it turned on her.

"Right in one. Created by Merlin over fifteen hundred years ago." He turned back to David, brown eyes sharp. "That's a loan. I'm going to want it back."

"Right." David obviously still wanted to stare at the sword; by his side, Snow was looking at it in awe, too. Moments earlier, Excalibur had looked old and dirty, but now the sword seemed to shine with power. Almost every eye in the room was fastened on it, Bae's included. Hell, even Emmalooked pretty shocked, but then, Excalibur was probably the most famous sword in _any _world.

And of course, his father had had it collecting dust for centuries.

* * *

The wards were weaker than she had expected.

On the surface, that should have been pleasing. Weaker defenses would be easier to breach, when the time came, and the day would indeed arrive when she came forth to reclaim her servant. Knowing she could overpower them should have been something of a balm to the anger over losing him in the first place—but instead she found herself disappointed. Weak wards on a mountain castle were beneath her old friend. She wished to defeat him, of course, but never without fighting a battle worth winning. Danns had won in the end, and yet obviously Merlin had preserved something unexpected beneath the curse she had forced upon him. Unlike her sister, she enjoyed surprises, so—

Oh. Fascinating. The wards_ were _weaker, but there was a subtle bent to them. Even when she'd started probing, quietly and delicately, the threads piecing the defenses together slipped free of her grasp, slipping away before she had a hold on them. Of course, Danns didn't intend to breach the wards today—there would be no point in that, not when her _other _pieces were playing their parts so well—but she had meant to lay a handful of traps of her own, to leave a few threads behind that she could exploit at her leisure. Yet the wards proved resistant, elusive and layered in ways she had not anticipated. There was skill behind their crafting, skill and subtlety, both of a type she'd never encountered before.

Danns' a'Bhàis shivered, feeling the distant rumble of power beneath those defenses_. _And then she smiled.

Oh, this wasn't Merlin's doing. She had no doubt that her old friend lay inside the (former and future) Dark One, but this was clearly Rumplestiltskin at work. Looking at the multi-layered magic on the castle made her reevaluate her opinion of the man she'd tortured; she had realized he was clever, but this was something else, entirely. Merlin had been all power and stubbornness, firm in his convictions and forthright in his beliefs. Rumplestiltskin, she had realized a few days into the year she had held him, was something else entirely.

He'd not wasted time, either. Or perhaps Merlin had not, and her old friend was merely hiding within the other man, biding his time and influencing Rumplestiltskin only as required. One of them had certainly come to grips with the original power Danns knew so well—and that was undoubtedly Merlin. She'd grown to know Rumplestiltskin well enough to appreciate the frightened mess she had left him in, and doubted he had the mental capacity to wrap his mind around such things without help, or at least not so very soon. Clever though he was, he was not cut from the same cloth as Merlin, not built to withstand decades of pain before giving in. She had _broken_ Merlin, shaped him and turned him from a brave man into a slave to his own rage. Rumplestiltskin would have been child's play had that younger sorceress and her companions not rescued him.

There would be time for that. For everything. Smiling again, she watched the castle's gates open and a quartet of figures stride out. They could not see her. Danns stood in the shadows, buried deeply within the trees and there as an observer only. Even Zelena did not realize her mistress was present as she waited for the "Grand Alliance's" hero-king to come out and meet their champion. The duel had been Zelena's idea, of course; she was growing tired of all-out war and—

_He _was one of them. Walking to the right of that king—and oh, didn't _that _bring up memories!—and listening to the conversation the other three shared. The king and the other two were unimportant; the young woman was likely the one they called the savior, for she wasn't her dark-haired mother. She was vaguely interesting only on account of her latent magical talent and the way destiny seemed to dog her shadow, but the dark haired man walking to her left was forgettable. Oh, he was older than he had any right to be, but still unremarkable. That boy was the wary one in the bunch, his eyes flickering around cautiously as soldiers from inside the castle walls trotted out to fill positions mirroring the Witch's forces on the edge of the tourney area, but he wasn't important.

Rumplestiltskin, however, was. But what caught her eye about him was not the way he crackled power, because he didn't. _Merlin _would have, would have been a beacon of magic striding across the field, daring anyone to cross his chosen king and face the consequences. Rumplestiltskin, however, was more…elusive. The power wasn't muted; no, it was contained, leashed, and ready to strike at a moment's notice for all that he looked relaxed. Watching him made her heart beat faster. Yes, she had suspected correctly. Merlin was in there, and she looked forward to reuniting with her old friend.

* * *

He'd insisted on accompanying Charming at the last minute, feeling the whisper-soft presence of fae magic at the back of his mind, probing the defenses he'd layered around the castle. Rumplestiltskin hadn't felt that magic in two months , but he would have known it anywhere. _She _was here.

So he walked out with Charming, Bae, and Emma, making it an odd sort of family trip out to a duel to the death. Part of him wanted to laugh at the thought, but Rumplestiltskin supposed that he could have chosen worse companions. Charming was resolute, of course, every inch the heroic warrior king, right in his element the way he'd never been in Storybrooke. David Nolan's insecurities had long since vanished. Emma was the opposite, restless and desperately trying not to show her nerves. Their savior hated situations she couldn't control, and Rumplestiltskin could feel the determination rolling off her in waves. Bae, however, was somewhere in the middle, laid back and utterly adaptable. His eyes were alert, watching for trouble, but unlike Emma, Bae seemed to be completely at ease.

It wasn't the first time that Rumplestiltskin realized how very much his son had grown into his role here in the Enchanted Forest, and he was _so _very proud of him. Bae had done better for himself than Rumplestiltskin might ever have dreamed—he'd always known that his boy was brilliant and would succeed at whatever he chose to do, but the their background always presented an undeniable handicap. Upward mobility in the Enchanted Forest wasn't what it had been in the Land Without Magic, where even a poor man could become a world leader. But the Enchanted Forest had never worked like that, and inequity between classes had simply been a fact of life for as long as Rumplestiltskin could remember. Someone who bucked society's norms just wasn't _normal_.

The fact that Rumplestiltskin managed to completely defy conventions was often ignored by anyone important enough to care, particularly since most of them just plain didn't know his background these days. Sorcerers formed a social class all of their own, anyway, with the more powerful ones moving in the most rarified circles and associating with monarchs easily. But that wasn't terribly surprising; most magic users actually came from the upper classes to begin with. People like Rumplestiltskin (peasant born and bred) or even Cora (a tradesman's daughter) were the exceptions to every unwritten rule. Regina fit the mold far better than they did; she was the daughter of a prince and royalty, though distant, in her own right. Most sorcerers came from the unexpectedly gifted children of nobles, or children of other magic users. The lower class magic users, hedge witches/wizards, small town healers, midwives, and such, were a breed apart from the greater sorcerers, and they didn't move in the same social circles, either.

Bae had been destined to be a spinner or weaver because of his father's chosen trade, or a foot soldier if he'd proven less talented at that than Rumplestiltskin suspected he would have. But those would have been his only options. He would never have been allowed to be an officer in any army, let alone command one, and his relationship with Emma would never have happened in a million years. Now, as the son of a sorcerer he would have had a lot more choices, yet he still wouldn't have been able to be who he was now. Their world wouldn't have allowed it.

_I suppose that sojourn to the Land Without Magic might have been good for all of us, _Rumplestiltskin mused, his mind tripping along the various paths that the use of the Dark Curse had driven their world down. He didn't particularly care to _See _any of them at the moment, and pushed the small visions aside, but it still was interesting to contemplate how Regina's curse would continue to change their world. Perhaps the stagnant nature of the Enchanted Forest would finally be overcome by lessons people had learned over almost three decades in another world. Or perhaps—

"You've had this sword for years, haven't you?" Charming asked, interrupting Rumplestiltskin's thoughts.

"Of course."

The King shot him an exasperated look. "You couldn't have mentioned that back when I was looking for something to inspire Snow?"

"You didn't ask," he shrugged, letting an innocent smile play over his lips as he remembered Snow White coming to him, so full of her confidence and ready to go to war against Regina. She'd been so _shocked _when he'd destroyed that fake sword Charming had stuck into a stone (though he'd been impressed; who would expect such innovation from a shepherd?). And then he'd snatched her mother's necklace from her as payment for wasting his time.

He should probably give that back. Rumplestiltskin knew exactly where it was, stuck in a chest in one of the Dark Castle's many storerooms. He vaguely remembered Snow protesting that the necklace had belonged to her mother, so it would make a good peace offering. Not because he was feeling _nice, _of course. The way things promised to go over the next months, he'd probably need all the goodwill he could gather from his grandson's relatives, which would make returning the necklace a worthy investment.

"You _knew _what I was looking for." Charming glared, but Rumplestiltskin didn't detect any actual anger in the expression.

"I had confidence that you'd find something," he replied lightly. And it had been important that Charming do so, to let his growing relationship with Snow develop still more. They'd needed a challenge to their love, one they had to overcome, and Charming's white lie had fit that bill nicely.

"I'm sure you did," the king grumbled. "Do you ever _not_?"

Unwittingly, his eyes found Bae's. "I have my moments," Rumplestiltskin murmured, just as magic washed over him.

Not responding to the feather-light touch took all the self-control he had; the urge to lash out was overwhelming. But this fight was to take place under a flag of truce…and he was willing to bet that the Black Fairy thought she'd been subtle enough that he ought not have noticed the tiny magical scan. _Let her think I don't know, _he decided, forcing back memories of fear and pain. Two could play at the manipulation game. He'd content himself with scanning the challenge field for any other spells, ones that would give their enemy an edge or undermine the parley itself.

"So, how exactly does this work, anyway?" Emma interjected, looking at her father.

"We meet on neutral ground," Charming replied, gesturing at the cordoned off area they were approaching. Soldiers from the castle and belonging to the Witch already ringed the area; standing at ceremonial positions dictated by years of such foolish displays. Rumplestiltskin had never really understood the urge royals had to stake an entire war on the outcome of one small duel, but the peasant lurking in him was always grateful when he saw it happen. A fight to the death between champions meant that less lowborn foot soldiers would die while the important folk duked it out over who got control of whatever they were fighting for. Charming, however, was continuing to explain to the only princess in the Enchanted Forest who probably agreed with Rumplestiltskin's assessment of the situation. "Each of us brings three companions. The soldiers from both sides will keep anyone else from interfering. And then we fight until one of us yields or dies."

"_Can _you yield in a fight to the death?"

"If you want the other guy to kill you, sure." That was Bae, whose cynicism mirrored his father's. "Excalibur or no, David, I still think this is a dumb idea."

"Dumb or not, I've got to do it," Charming replied. "Even if the Witch doesn't keep her end of it."

"Which we know she won't," Bae pointed out mildly.

"Why the hell is it that the good guys are supposed to be honorable when evil can cheat all it wants?" Emma demanded, and of course she looked at Rumplestiltskin. Well, _glared _at him, anyway.

"Don't ask me, Princess"—oh, and that title made Emma bristle; he'd have to use it when he wanted to annoy her—"I've always been a believer in keeping my promises. No one will trust you if you don't, and that does tend to make people less likely to make a deal with you."

Emma started to say something else, and then cut herself off. "Oh. Wow. She really is _green_, huh?"

"You should have seen him before," Charming muttered, gesturing at Rumplestiltskin, who chuckled.

"Maybe it keeps her from getting sunburned?" Bae suggested jokingly.

"Magic will do that to you if you're not careful," Rumplestiltskin addressed Emma, gesturing at the Witch, who stood on the opposite side of the tourney area with the Buffalo-Leather Soldier and two others. "And _that _is why I manage the cost of magic so carefully. Exterior changes are always amplified on the inside; what you can't see is what she's done to her own soul."

_My soul had enough damage from the curse; how would I have looked if I'd not been so careful after those early days?_ Rumplestiltskin could hardly remember what Zoso had looked like when his predecessor hadn't been using his human glamour, but the vague memories he'd inherited from his other predecessors indicated that the Dark One could look a lot worse than Rumplestiltskin ever had.

"How come Regina looks so normal, then?" Emma wanted to know.

Rumplestiltskin snorted. "Regina's vain," he quipped, and then turned a little more serious. "And the root of her evil had always been born of her pain. She was cautious, Regina, even when she was at her worst. And she rarely embraced the worst she could be."

_Much to my past frustration, though now I'm somewhat glad for that. _What kind of odd world did they live in where the Evil Queen and the former Dark One were the best sorcerers that the "good" side had? There were times Rumplestiltskin wondered if the irony might drive him mad.

The Buffalo-Leather Soldier stepped away from the Witch before their conversation could continue, striding out into the roped-off area. He was indeed a monster of a man, taller than David by at least six inches, and clad in simple leather armor that only made him look more threatening. He bore a enormous sword that was almost half again the length of Excalibur, and made hefting it look easy. The Soldier _looked _the part of the legendary warrior he was, wearing that look of eagles that storybook artists always liked to paint. Straight-backed and proud, one would have thought he was supposed to be the hero of the piece instead of the champion for the villains. Not far away, the Witch smiled as she watched Charming stop and take in his opponent. The king didn't show a bit of fear, of course—Rumplestiltskin would never have set him up as the hero if he was that type—but even then it was obvious that David hadn't expected the Buffalo-Leather Soldier to look like this.

He was coated in magic, too, with tight threads of power shimmering in the afternoon sunlight if you knew where to look. The Soldier clearly didn't need spells to make him faster or stronger, but he'd clearly been brought back from the edge of death, and that sort of magic _lingered_. But there was fae magic on him, too, protective and tricky, designed to keep any normal weapon from harming him in the unlikely occurrence David might manage to get a blow in.

"David of Eltaria," the Buffalo-Leather Soldier bellowed. "I, Sir Gingalain of Wales do hereby challenge you to single combat! Let the victor accept the surrender of the other's forces, and let us end this war once and for all!"

Well. Wasn't that interesting. The Buffalo-Leather Soldier turned out to have a name, and he referred to Charming only as a monarch of _Snow White's _kingdom. Did that mean George was still running around and trying to claim his kingdom? Rumplestiltskin wouldn't have been surprised. And yet…why did he recognize Sir Gingalain? Something in the back of his mind stirred, knowledge buried within Merlin's memories. What was he missing?

"I accept your challenge!" Charming replied immediately, squaring his shoulders and drawing his own sword.

"Good luck, Dad," Emma said quietly, and Charming turned to kiss her on the cheek. That gave Rumplestiltskin a moment to turn his eyes away from the Witch—who was smiling at him, quite predictably—and catch David's arm before the king could walk out.

"Excalibur won't make you invincible, dearie, and it won't make you stronger. You'll have to use that brain of yours and strike where it counts," he said softly. "Understand?"

David nodded. "I understand." Then the young king smiled. "Besides, I owe you the sword back, right? I can't give return it if I'm dead."

With that grin, David strode out to meet the most legendary swordsman and general in the history of the Enchanted Forest. Emma grimaced and Bae frowned, but a smile played out on Rumplestiltskin's lips. Oh, he'd chosen _well _when he'd decided which infant to hand King George, all those years ago. He'd known the second one would matter, and _here _was the moment where David would prove that.

* * *

_**A/N:**_ _So, several Arthurian references in this chapter, and things are heating up! Bonus points to those of you who realize who Sir Gingalain's mother is and who recognize the name I pegged on Snow's kingdom, which is a nod to a fabulous series of fairy tale books. Now onto my question: do you think Rumplestiltskin is right that Merlin's soul is long dead, or is the Black Fairy right and Merlin is only waiting? _

_Thank you all for reading! Next up is Chapter 19: "Dark Winds Rising", in which David duels the Buffalo-Leather Soldier, Mulan faces off with the Black Knight, and the fae begin to come out of the shadows._


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